The first text came at eleven that night.
Salome was curled up on her couch, Kai finally asleep in his crib after a long day. She'd spent most of it trying not to think about Malachi—about what he'd done, about how Demarcus had suddenly become compliant, about the way her body still remembered the feel of Malachi's hands on her waist.
Her phone buzzed.
Malachi: You still awake?
She stared at the screen for a moment, her pulse quickening.
Salome: Yeah. Just got Kai down.
Malachi: Good. I've been thinking about you all day.
Heat pooled low in her belly. She bit her lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Salome: Have you?
Malachi: You know I have. Can't stop thinking about that dress you wore. The way it hugged every curve.
Salome: It was just a dress.
Malachi: It was a f*****g t
