An hour and a half later, in his truck while Tess was in her car on the way to get the boys from Dade’s, he ordered a Famous pizza for his birthday meal.

* * *

In the middle of studying his face, the tips of her fingers moving over it, Tess started giggling.

This was unusual. Not her studying his face after he made her come, after he came, and when he was still buried inside her. She did that often and he let her because he liked to see what was working behind her eyes as they moved over his features. He liked it a fuck of a lot.

Her giggling in the middle of doing it, now that was unusual.

He found instantly he liked that too. Then again, he liked it anytime Tess laughed.

“What’s funny?” he asked, getting the question in over her escalating laughter.

“Ma… Ma… Martha,” she stammered, lifting her head to shove it in his neck, her hands sliding around his shoulders so both her arms and legs could convulse around him.

“Martha?” he asked her pillow.

She sucked in a breath and dropped her head back down, her eyes coming to his as she nodded.

There was a lot that was funny about Martha. The bitch was a scream. She hadn’t toned down the drama, and likely at her age she never would. But she loved Tess and she’d cottoned onto the fact that Brock would accept her drama in Tess’s life as long as it had no negative effects and she saw to it that that was so. She also loved his boys and didn’t hide it. They thought she was a scream too. So, since her drama was mostly humorous and not annoying, Brock liked her and she made no bones about liking him, and he had to admit, he liked that too.

He figured his wife’s sudden onset of humor had something to do with the fact that Calhoun had come into Tess’s bakery about five months ago. When he did, Tess had gone direct into matchmaking mode and hooked him up with Martha. Calhoun took the bait and was still hooked. Martha didn’t hide any of her drama from Calhoun, and surprising the fuck out of Brock, Calhoun apparently got off on it.

Whatever. To each their own.

And anyway, the crazy dance between DEA Agent Calhoun and Martha Shockley provided his wife with a variety of things to giggle over when she told him about them. And he was happy with that.

She released her legs from around him, planted her feet in the bed, and bucked her hips slightly, telling him what she wanted.

He gave it to her. Sliding out gently, he watched her lips part, her eyelids get soft, that sexy-as-hell look that communicated both pleasure and disappointment at losing him being the second best part of fucking her (or the third, maybe the fourth, though it could be the fifth). Then he gave her what she wanted and rolled them so he was on his back and she was on top.