Chapter 3
They tumbled into the bedroom—their bedroom—together, trading kisses and caresses and laughter. Ryan stepped on John’s foot once. John, carrying Holly, got closer to him and backed him up against the wall until they ran out of space, bodies meeting, aroused and expectant.
Ryan said, “You might be bigger, but I’m more flexible,” and wrapped a leg around John’s. Holly’s rainclouds played melodies across stone and glass and oceans, surrounding their home, drenching the world in silvery song.
Their bedroom held laundry baskets and thick island-weather blankets. It kept safe several of Holly’s current books on infamous historical duels and scandals, plus John’s favorite old leather belt, coiled innocuously by the bedside. It protected Robbie’s dog tags, in a closed box—not hidden,
