S awyer resisted reality’s tug on the strings of his consciousness with all his might, digging in the way Dolly did when she realized they were at the vet’s office. Their bedroom was a calm oasis, a private island paradise in a sea of chaos that swirled around them. Just five more minutes. Too late. His brain was coming alive and clocking his surroundings. Beyond his closed eyelids, Sawyer could tell the sun was brighter than his typical wake time. Royce had come home from the crime scene and instigated a pool volleyball tournament that lasted until well after midnight. He’d told Sawyer that he wanted to replace the images of the Matisse swimming pool with happier ones from their house. Royce had also admitted after everyone left that he’d wanted to challenge his temporary partner’s refusal to get back in the pool. Diego’s resistance hadn’t lasted long, and he’d ended up on the winning team. Sawyer and Royce hadn’t crawled into bed until nearly two in the morning.
The sharks, their cat and dog, were circling the bed in their impatience for breakfast. Dolly’s toenails clicked against the hardwood floor, and Bones’ tail swished hard enough to stir the air. Sawyer kept his eyes closed to do a body scan instead of facing their outrage. He started with his feet, flexing his ankles to get the blood flowing. Then he straightened his legs, pulling his muscles taut and releasing them to feel the warmth flood those awakened areas. By the time he reached his ass, the only thing he could focus on was the press of an insistent erection between his cheeks. Sawyer tensed his glutes to pull a deep groan from Royce. He meant to scan higher to prove he could resist his husband, but Royce’s delicious chuckle vibrated against Sawyer’s back. A confident hand snaked around his hip, and deft fingers brushed over his hardening dick.
Royce pressed a kiss to that sensitive spot beneath his ear, and Sawyer shivered. “Want some help with your body scan?”
Sawyer pressed his ass harder against Royce’s pelvis. “Yes,” he whispered. “You’re so thoughtful.”
His husband’s wicked fingers slid through the trimmed hair at the base of Sawyer’s dick. Royce’s chuckle sounded dark and devious. “I try.” He stroked his fingers upward, circling Sawyer’s belly button and making his abs flex and quiver. “Feeling awake here?”
Every cell in Sawyer’s body hummed, but he swallowed hard to keep his voice even. “I think so.”
“Hmmmm.” Royce slowly dragged deft digits up Sawyer’s taut abdomen until he reached his sternum. Then he shifted right to glide over Sawyer’s pectoral muscle, circling the nipple until it hardened. Royce pinched and tugged until Sawyer cried out. “Definitely awake here.”
Sawyer reached behind him and fisted his hands in Royce’s hair. “Sexy fucker.”
“Present,” Royce said like he was answering a roll call. He slid his hand upward to cup Sawyer’s jaw and turned his face to brush a kiss over his lips. “And ready.”
Meow.
“Don’t make eye contact,” Royce whispered in his ear. “Keep those eyes closed and just feel.”
Sawyer did as his husband directed and smiled when Royce reached up to retrieve the lube from the headboard caddy. The thing stored remotes, tablets, and anything else someone might use in bed to watch television or entertain themselves, which was why Royce put their lube there. He’d placed a late-night order and paid extra to get the caddy there faster when he decided separating long enough to grab the lube from the nightstand allowed too much room for Bones to pounce in the gap to wreak havoc and kill the mood. The only thing Royce guarded more fiercely than sexy time with Sawyer was his bear claw addiction. The fumbling over their heads became more frantic, and Royce released a growl born of frustration.
“Don’t look it in the eye,” Royce whispered in his ear as he intensified the search.
“Are you still talking about the c-a-t? Or do you mean the eager beast pressed against my ass?”
Meow.
“Of course the furry fucker can spell now,” Royce growled. “Yes, I was talking about our f-e-l-i-n-e.”
Meow.
“Maybe I should just get up and feed them,” Sawyer said. “I can come right back to bed.”
“And then we have to take Dolly for her morning walk. Real life is waiting outside our bedroom, and it will do everything it can to fuck us over while preventing us from screwing.” More rustling, and Sawyer almost opened his eyes. “The lube must’ve slid sideways. I need a smaller pocket for it.”
“Or a bigger bottle of lube,” Sawyer suggested.
“I married a genius.” Royce fumbled around for a few more seconds, then cried out, “Aha!” right before a small package of snacks smacked Sawyer on the head. Royce flung the bag aside and said, “Oops. Forgot I’d tucked those in there.”
Sawyer wasn’t remotely surprised his husband had stashed snacks in the headboard caddy. “Sweet or salty?”
Royce nuzzled the back of Sawyer’s neck and nipped at the sensitive skin there. “You’re both.” The snick of the lube cap opening signaled the end of the snack conversation and the start of filthy talk and foreplay. Before Royce coated his fingers, he slid a confident hand from the top of Sawyer’s ass crack down to his lower thigh. He grabbed the back of Sawyer’s leg and lifted it. “Give me what I want.”
Sawyer bent his knee to expose himself to Royce’s eager body. “Take it.”
A cool, slick finger pressed against his puckered rim, circled a few times, and then pressed inside. Sawyer hissed in arousal as Royce teased him and hummed the tune of “Easy Like Sunday Morning.”
Meow. Yip, yip, yip.
“This is a solo performance,” Royce told Bones and Dolly. “Daddy doesn’t need your help right now.”
“Solo?” Sawyer asked. “Am I just a spectator too?”
“It’s a duet. My bad.”
Royce pushed two fingers inside him and continued humming and dragging slick fingers over sensitive nerve endings, making Sawyer arch his back and push his ass against Royce. “That’s right. Your body is going to sing for me now.”
“Damn, a trio,” Sawyer whispered. “It’s getting crowded in our bed.”
Royce nipped his ear. “Smart-ass.” Then he retracted his fingers, and Sawyer whimpered in protest. His husband’s refusal to budge too far from him meant Sawyer felt the glide of a fist against his ass when Royce smeared lube on his cock. Wet fingers held Sawyer’s hips in place as an eager dick pressed against his entrance. Royce slid inside him, stretching him open on a long, slick glide. Sawyer’s breath hitched at the moment of penetration and exhaled in a gasp when Royce’s cock nudged against his prostate.
“Ro,” Sawyer whimpered with his next breath.
“I’ve got you, baby.” Slick fingers moved from Sawyer’s hips to his cock. Royce kissed the shell of his ear and nipped the lobe. “Always.” Then he slowly and methodically made love to Sawyer with perfectly synchronized up-and-down strokes on his cock while lazily fucking his ass. Prostate nudges coincided with wrist twists on the head of Sawyer’s dick, rendering him a bundle of frenzied need in seconds.
“Please,” Sawyer begged. “Put me on my knees.”
A dark chuckle rumbled from Royce’s chest as he ignored Sawyer’s desperate pleas. Then he simply continued to hum the song and took Sawyer apart one cell at a time with his lazy lovemaking until the pleasure was too much for either of them to withstand. Royce’s thrusts and strokes sped up and lost their precision, but the wild messiness amped Sawyer up even more.
“Don’t stop, baby. Please.”
“Never,” Royce whispered huskily. “Give it to me. Let me feel it.”
Sawyer sucked in a breath as pleasure detonated inside him. He coated Royce’s hand and clamped around his cock as he rode out his orgasm.
“That’s it,” Royce coached. “Going to fill you up.” He released Sawyer’s dick and rolled him onto his stomach, where he straddled Sawyer’s upper thighs and spread his cheeks apart to watch his dick glide in and out of his greedy hole. “Mine.”
And Sawyer basked in the glory of his husband’s possession. “Yours.”
Royce squeezed his ass cheeks together and pounded inside him, rutting and grinding until he came with a snarling growl that made Sawyer want to start all over again. Collapsing on top of him, Royce buried his face in Sawyer’s neck. They stayed that way for several moments, lost in their private bubble as their breathing returned to normal.
Meow. Yip, yip, yip.
A furry paw smacked Sawyer in the nose, and he couldn’t resist cracking open one eye. Bones stared at him with a malicious glare that promised unholy retribution if one of them didn’t get out of that bed and feed him. Royce chuckled as he gingerly eased from Sawyer’s ass and rose from the bed. Sawyer admired his husband’s perfectly toned body as he glared at the cat and dog.
“I’m up, my little hellcat with your minion hellhound.” Royce had tried for a stern voice, but he couldn’t disguise the underlying layer of humor. “Are you happy now?”
Meow. Yip, yip, yip.
“Pretty sure that’s a big fat no,” Sawyer said.
“Or they’re critiquing my performance.” Royce’s hand landed on Sawyer’s ass with a loud smack. “Up and at it. Our fur kids are hungry.”
Sawyer grumbled but rose from the bed. He didn’t bother making it because they needed to change the sheets after the fuckfest they’d had since their clinic visit on Friday. It was Sawyer’s turn to feed the beasts and start the coffee while Royce fired up the shower. Sawyer wanted to take a detour to brush his teeth, but he didn’t want to incur the wrath of Bones. “I have a new title for my autobiography,” Sawyer said to his majestic feline son sauntering beside him. “ Wrath of Bones . It needs a snazzy subtitle, don’t you think?”
Meow. Bones wasn’t the least bit impressed with the idea. He picked up his pace, expecting Sawyer to step it up too.
Yip, yip, yip. Dolly spun in excited circles at the end of the hall. He couldn’t tell if she approved or was outraged on her savior’s behalf. Bones could do no wrong in her eyes ever since he’d outsmarted the house sitter and escaped to rescue the tiny, abandoned dog from the inclement weather and a life of abuse. Sawyer and Royce had returned from their honeymoon to discover Bones had adopted a tiny dog, and it hadn’t taken them long to fall in love with her too.
“Doll Doll agrees with me.” Sawyer hummed as he considered. “Something like, How an Ordinary Man Became His Feline’s Bitch. ”
Dolly barked her approval, and Bones threw him a disgusted look over his shoulder. Sawyer noticed the extra swagger in Bones’ steps and swish in his tail though.
He made quick work of feeding the beasts and starting the coffee. They typically used the single-serve option throughout the week, filling their mugs on their way out the door. Sundays were made to savor the joys in life—big and small. He grabbed the Kona coffee Kelsey had brought them back from Hawaii. She’d taken a long vacation with Andrew and Ella before committing her body to producing and carrying their baby for nine months. Sawyer lifted the bag of grounds to his nose and inhaled the aroma. “If heaven had a smell…” Sawyer took one more big sniff before adding grounds to the filter, checking the water level, and starting the machine. He jogged through the house in his haste to enjoy his husband naked and wet, a phenomenon he’d never tire of.
Royce looked up when he burst into the bathroom, and his lips curved into a sexy smirk when Sawyer didn’t bother to hide his admiration. He turned to face Sawyer, propping his forearms above his head on the glass doors. “Like what you see?”
Sawyer stood rooted in place and raked his gaze over Royce’s sheer perfection. “You know I do. I can’t ever get enough of you.” Which was why Sawyer found it comical when Royce felt threatened by another man.
Royce arched a brow. “Then what are you waiting for?”
The invitation snapped Sawyer from his haze. He went to the sink to brush his teeth and wash his face. Royce opened the door for him as he approached the shower. Sawyer stepped inside the enclosure and got lost in wet kisses and soapy caresses until the drop in the water temperature signaled the heater had reached its capacity.
“We’re going to invest in a tankless water heater someday,” Royce grumbled as he aggressively toweled his hair.
“I think that defeats the purpose of us trying to conserve water by showering together,” Sawyer said.
Royce dragged the towel from his head and stared at his husband in disbelief. “You do know that no one means it when they say that.”
“I know a bullshit excuse when I hear one,” Sawyer quipped. “But it wouldn’t hurt us to turn the faucet off between the soaping and rinsing or the sucking and the fucking.”
Royce stepped off the shower mat and stalked toward him, not stopping until he had Sawyer pressed against the vanity. “Fine, but you’re taking the brunt of the cold-water blast when we turn the faucet back on. You shouldn’t mind the chill since you keep threatening to install a tub on the patio for cold water plunging.” Royce, who preferred a hot tub even in the dead of a sultry summer, shivered at the mere thought.
Sawyer cupped his face. “Cold water is good for you. It helps with inflammation.”
Royce kissed him hard on the mouth. “I’ll take your word for it.”
They finished drying off and got dressed to take Dolly for her morning walk. She waited by the door where they kept her harness and leash. Sawyer sighed and shook his head when he saw that the gear hanging from the designated hook matched the Americana bow in her hair. The groomers recognized a sucker when Royce sauntered through their doors with a five-pound dog tucked under his impressive biceps. Sawyer didn’t remark on Dolly’s latest ensemble, but Royce knew him well.
“She likes it,” Royce said as he hooked the leash into the loop on her harness. “Don’t you, baby girl?”
Yip, yip, yip. Dolly spun in enthusiastic circles to punctuate her response.
“See! She likes it,” Royce said.
“She has to pee,” Sawyer countered as he snatched the poop bag dispenser from its hook.
“Probably that too.”
Dolly got a walk every day, come hell or high water, but she especially loved to lollygag on Sundays. Royce claimed their dog possessed an internal calendar to go with the clock that told her when it was time to eat. Sawyer had claimed it was because she fed off their energy. Either way, she was content to sniff the flowers planted in the beds at the ends of their neighbors’ driveways and investigate every tree and swath of grass until she found the perfect place to squat.
“You didn’t tell me what you learned at Dr. Matisse’s house last night,” Sawyer said.
“There’s not much to say right now.” Royce launched into a summary of what he’d seen and the conversations he’d had at the doctor’s house. Sawyer tried to focus on what Royce said, but his thoughts drifted to things he didn’t want to explore.
The pep talk they’d had before Royce left the previous night didn’t fully quell the growing unease in the pit of his stomach. Sawyer and Royce were excellent judges of character, but they got things wrong too. Look at the way they’d misjudged one another when they first met. Even if Dr. Flores was as wonderful and as capable as they believed her to be, honest mistakes occurred every day. What if the technicians accidentally mislabeled something or handed the wrong sperm sample to the doctor for insemination? Honest mistakes were just as painful as intentional ones. They wouldn’t know if the baby biologically belonged to them without testing. And if she didn’t? Was the universe telling him that he wasn’t meant to be a father?
Royce’s hand settled on the nape of his neck and gently squeezed. “Knock it off.”
Sawyer inhaled deeply and pulled himself together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Royce halted in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing Sawyer to stop too. “You’re freaking out again.”
“Was not.”
“Yes, you were.” Royce kissed him, and the tension eased. No matter what happened, they’d tackle it together. “I was telling you about the dynamics between the Matisse women, and you didn’t acknowledge it.”
Sawyer chuckled, and they resumed walking. “Intense?”
“It was Housewives material,” Royce replied. “There was so much tension between mother and daughter.”
“Do you think that’s significant?” Sawyer asked.
“Not sure, but I felt bad for Julia. I just got the feeling that she was always striving for her father’s approval, and Mayor Barclay confirmed it.”
“And now she’ll never get it,” Sawyer said.
“Exactly.” He halted suddenly and pointed at the Sunday paper lying in the middle of a neighbor’s yard. “I forgot all about Felix’s exposé. Do you think he went ahead with publishing it?”
Sawyer snorted. “Do you wake each morning with an erection?”
Royce whistled for Dolly, and they stepped up the pace to encourage her to poop. Because they wanted her to, the dog took her good ole time finding the right blades of grass to bless. Sawyer waited with a bag at the ready and swooped in once they accomplished their feat. They had a digital subscription to the paper, so Royce brought his tablet into the kitchen and pulled up the article on it.
“Do you mind if I read this? I’m sure Felix only gave us a CliffsNotes version of the dirt they’d dug up on Dr. Matisse.”
“Read it out loud,” Sawyer said. “I’ll wash up and start breakfast.”
“Do you want me to attempt a foreign accent to make this more entertaining?” Royce asked. “I won’t be nearly as good as your favorite audiobook narrators.”
Sawyer laughed. “Just read it.”
While he diced vegetables for egg white omelets, Royce read an accounting of horrific behavior spanning forty years. He sucked in a breath and then cursed.
“What?” Sawyer asked.
“Felix claims the doctor fathered nearly five hundred children in forty years and points out that there could be hundreds more who’ve never taken DNA tests.”
Sawyer nearly sliced off a finger with that staggering revelation. He set the knife on the counter and faced Royce. “Almost five hundred? He told us about forty-eight.”
“Those were just the ones he’d traced to the doctor’s Savannah practice. There are four hundred and eighty-two confirmed matches as of now,” Royce said. “That breaks down to twelve children a year. What’s the likelihood he kept to one fraudulent insemination a month?”
Sawyer leaned back against the counter. “It’s not likely at all. I’m not an expert in psychiatry, but there is surely a term for someone like him. Narcissist doesn’t sound severe enough for someone who willfully procreated with unsuspecting women. He was a damn predator. Was he trying to create a super race of people like him?” Sawyer’s fears from earlier rushed to the forefront of his mind, but he shoved them aside before they could drag him down like a dangerous undertow lurking beneath the surface. “What else does the article say?”
“The number of victims is really the only thing Felix didn’t touch on last night. I’m sure there will be more to come in the podcast and follow-up segments for the paper.” Royce set the tablet down and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Christ, what a mess.”
“I can’t imagine what his wife or daughter must be feeling. Surely someone in their inner circle has read the article this morning and told them about it.” Sawyer met Royce’s gray eyes across the kitchen. “If neither of them killed him, they’re going to wish they had.”
Royce’s phone rang before he could respond. He looked at the device and said, “It’s the commissioner. Top brass on a Sunday morning is never a good thing.” He tapped a button on the phone before greeting Commissioner Rigby. “I’d bet a thousand dollars you aren’t calling to get Sawyer’s recipe for strawberry and cream scones.”
A dry laugh crackled through the phone’s speakers. “You should’ve bet ten thousand,” she replied. “Though the recipe sounds delicious. Are you at home?”
“Yes, ma’am. I have you on speakerphone, but it’s just Sawyer and me.”
“Morning, ma’am,” Sawyer said.
Rigby greeted him warmly before getting down to business. “I’ve received a phone call from both the mayor and the Matisses’ family friend, a retired lawyer named Richard Todd. Alyssa and Julia Matisse are aware of accusations stated in Felix Franklin’s article. They are understandably in shock and in denial. Richard Todd has asked that you hold off on speaking with them further until they’ve had some time to process another devastating blow. He’s asked for a meeting at nine on Tuesday morning at their home.”
“What did Mayor Barclay say?” Royce asked.
“He mostly repeated what Richard Todd had already requested, but I could tell he was on a fishing expedition to see what we knew about Dr. Matisse’s death.”
Royce snorted. “Of course he was. What did you tell them?”
“Based on the information I received from Mendoza last night, I didn’t see a reason to push the issue today,” Rigby said. “I agreed to honor their wishes unless we received concerning updates from the medical examiner.”
“I agree with you,” Royce told her. “Fawkes told me it might be a few days before she has preliminary reports to share.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” Rigby said. “The mayor is adamant there won’t be signs of foul play, and Richard Todd wants to shelter his friends from undue speculation and suspicion. Both had planned to call Dr. Fawkes after speaking to me to apply pressure. I wouldn’t leave town if I were you.”
“Now I feel like a suspect,” Royce teased.
“Sorry,” Rigby said. “I didn’t mean to sound so ominous. My gut just tells me the Matisse death won’t be as cut-and-dry as Todd and Barclay hope.”
Sawyer had the same feeling of foreboding, but that probably had more to do with the personal fears this case triggered.
“Don’t worry about me, ma’am.” Royce’s steely gray eyes never wavered from Sawyer’s face. “I’m going to enjoy the rest of the holiday weekend with my family and not give this case another thought until someone gives me a reason to.” Royce might’ve said those words in response to Rigby’s comment, but Sawyer knew he was the intended target.
“Good to hear. I’ll keep you posted if I hear anything new, and I ask that you do the same.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Royce disconnected the call and set the phone on the table. He stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of Sawyer. “I meant what I said. We’re not letting this son of a bitch ruin our dreams or even taint our weekend. Maybe I get called in, and maybe I don’t. I sure as hell will not waste precious time by worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet.” He kissed Sawyer hard on the mouth and then moved to the pantry. “You make the omelets, and I’m going to whip up a special treat.”
Sawyer watched his husband remove ingredients from the pantry and set them on the counter. He tried to guess the surprise from the items and had landed on pancakes until Royce placed a bottle of white vinegar on the counter. “What in the world are you up to, Ro?”
“Buttermilk pancakes. Aunt Tipsy taught me how to make them.”
“We don’t have buttermilk,” Sawyer replied.
“That’s what the vinegar is for. You can make your own by adding it to regular milk.”
Sawyer arched a brow. “Come on.”
“Wait and see.”
Thirty-five minutes later, Sawyer pushed back from the table and held up his hands in surrender. “I will never doubt you again.”
Royce wiped a smear of syrup from his face with his napkin, but his smug smile remained. “What are your plans this morning?”
“I need to make some side dishes to take to my parents this afternoon, but I can hold off on that for a while.”
Royce waggled his brows. “Oh yeah?”
He couldn’t mean another round of sex. Had Royce discovered the fountain of youth while he’d been in Denver? “I’m all yours.”
Royce’s mouth spread into a wicked smile that would make the Joker jealous. “That’s what I’m talking about. I’ll grab the keys.”
“Keys?” Sawyer repeated.
“The hardware store is having a Memorial Day weekend sale.”
Sawyer groaned and hung his head in defeat. “But you already have one of everything from there.”
Royce pushed back his chair and stood up. “I could use some extra muscle carrying out the potting soil.” He stopped by Sawyer’s chair long enough to drop a kiss on the back of his neck.
Sawyer pushed back from the table with his empty plate in his hand and followed Royce to the sink. “Fine.” The lack of enthusiasm in his voice made his husband laugh.
“And we could look at paint color samples. I’m thinking something neutral, like the palest gray, yellow, or green.”
Sawyer didn’t have to ask what room Royce wanted to paint. “You don’t want to wait until we’re certain?”
“I’m going all in,” Royce said. “What do you say?”
All the turmoil Sawyer had felt vanished as he stared into his husband’s mercurial eyes. “I’m quite partial to the color gray for a nursery color.”
“Grab the keys and let’s go.”