“Smooth,” Nadia whispers for my ears only.
“Uh, shall we?” I say, finally allowing my attention to turn back to Prue.
With a proud smile, she picks up her plate and begins following me toward the kitchen. The second we’re out of the dining room, Prue nudges me.
“What isupwith you?” she asks, wearing a grin so large it crinkles the corners of her eyes.
She’s being cruel, as she has been for the past few hours. Because when she said she needed a few minutes to change before we left for dinner, she didn’t warn me the way afriendought to about what she’d intended to wear. Normally modest, casual Prue is dressed like the sexiest librarian from any porno or teen flick you’d ever possibly imagine.
Her short,shortpleated skirt is an autumnal tartan pattern with brown tights underneath. On top, a sleeveless sweater vest exposes more of her chest than I’ve previously been witness to—solidifyingVas my favorite letter of the alphabet.
I haven’t been able to catch my fucking breath. I cannot stop imagining flipping up that little tease of a skirt and falling to my knees in front of her.
“You know exactly what you’re doing,” I tell her, taking her dishes and loading them into the dishwasher with mine. “Wearing that.”
She smirks wickedly, her eyes glancing up to the amber pendant lights hanging above the kitchen island. “At some point you’ll have to actually compliment me instead of continuing to insinuate my outfit was chosen to cause you harm.”
I suppose it’s not the first time I’ve acted wounded by the sight of her this evening, and it will not be the last. I check over my shoulder to make sure no one is near, and then I slide my hand across her belly, pulling her to my front. “I’m going to need a fucking blindfold to focus on this conversation we’re supposed to have tonight.” I speak into her shoulder, then bury my mouth against the soft skin of her neck.
She gasps softly, leaning her head to the side as my lips explore her neck.
“And I”—she elbows me when I rut against her—“am going to need a spray bottle.” She steps away, reaching toward the dishes in the sink.
I laugh. The sound turns ragged when I notice a small tear in the seam of the tights along her upper thigh, begging to be ripped open. “You are…” I say, biting my fist as she bends to place a bowl in the bottom rack of the dishwasher, and I see the faintest hint of the curves of her ass.
“What?” She grabs the last two items from the sink and places them inside the dishwasher.
I adjust myself inside of my shorts before she stands back up. “Here’s an idea,” I say brightly. “You can borrow some of my clothes.”
She turns over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at me while still wearing that perfect little smirk. “Your clothes won’t fit me.”
“Exactly.”
“As the more”—her eyes roll downward between us, then back to my face—“experiencedone of the two of us, you sure are acting like a virgin this evening.”
I chuckle slyly. “Experienced, huh? That might be the nicest way anyone’s ever called me a slut,” I say, shutting the dishwasher and leaning my hip onto the counter.
Prue matches me, leaning against the counter on the other side of the dishwasher. I steal a glance at her tits, the perfect handfuls they are, and the cleavage between them where I want to bury my tongue and teeth.
“Well, if the mustache fits…” she teases.
I slide my finger and thumb over the ’stache, waggling my brows as she giggles softly. “Oh, yeah? This does it for you, Killer?”
“Oh,yeah…” she says sarcastically, checking behind me before looping her arms around my shoulders. “I would watchMagnum, P.I.reruns whenever I was home sick from school. Selleck basicallyinventedsex for me.”
“Good to know,” I say, leaning down to kiss her. The moment our lips connect, the plan to be gentlemanly is abandoned. Delicacy and decency go out the window when she swipes her tongue across my upper lip, and then pulls me in deeper for more. She takes my tongue into her mouth with a breathy gasp and a tug on the back of my head. I groan, taking hold of her neck as I lick the inside of her mouth. I’m about ten seconds away from taking her to my room and asking to bury my face between her legs when a well-timed cough sounds from behind my back.
“Don’t mind me,” Nik says, waltzing into the kitchen. “Just needed this,” he says, picking up a baby bottle and shaking it at us both. Prue steps back, covering her face in her hands beforestudying the cupboard’s wood grain intently. “Milo, as a reminder, there are three children outside of your bedroom door right now watching a movie. And theycertainlydo not need a sex-ed lesson from their least-favorite uncle.”
“I’m theironlyuncle!” I shout after him as he exits the kitchen, instinctively stepping closer to Prue, who buries her face into my biceps, concealing her laugh. “And those kidsdoneed sex-ed lessons,” I mumble. “Nik never got one, clearly, that’s why there’s so many of them.” She laughs harder, shaking against me. “I’m glad you find this so funny,” I tease her, pressing a kiss against the top of her head.
“I’ve never been busted before!” she whispers. “I feel like a teenager!”
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, tipping her head back with my fingers in her hair. “We need to talk.”
“But what about my tour of your room?” She pouts disingenuously. I know what she wants. She wants to see the drawings, which I haven’t had time to hide yet, laid out on my bed.
“Over my dead body.”
