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Starsky gets a bit jealous.
He was asleep when I let myself in. The room was cool, the blanket low on his arm. I slid it up and shivered. He stirred and I kissed him. Tugged on the blanket, ran my fingers up his neck.
“Starsk?”
“When you touched her, Hutch, pulled her strap up, it was so fuckin’ sexy…so you. It hurt. She’s not…you’re…”
“Alice?”
I took his mouth again before he could say more, slid my hand under the blanket. His hand joined mine.
“You’re mine, Hutch.”
Buttons were opened, my shirt slipped down my shoulder, fingertips caressed my bare skin.
“Yes. Yours.”
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