He hits the ground first with anoomph, and I bounce against him from the impact. I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing that the skunk is going to release its deluge at any moment. Hopefully, I get the worst of it and Rogan is somewhat spared.
“What is going on?” he growls, making my eyes pop open to find his green gaze going from me to the room as though he’s still searching for the threat.
“Hoot let a skunk in the house. Close your mouth, we’re going to be sprayed any second now,” I bark at him, once again squeezing my eyes shut and taking my own advice and clamping my mouth closed too.
Rogan doesn’t say anything, proving his self-preservation instincts are firing on all cylinders. I wait, every muscle tense, for a malodorous mist to cascade down upon me, but nothing happens. I wait a little longer and then a little more. Nothing. I risk cracking one eye open to take in what’s happening. Maybe the skunk wanted a better angle.
I look over to find the little menace just sitting and watching us, Hoot right at its side, like Rogan and I are their entertainment for the evening. I turn my perplexed gaze to Rogan, who doesn’t look nearly as worried or pissed as I thought he would, and the gears in my head start turning.
“You know this skunk, don’t you?” I ask on a whisper, just in case my voice sets the little striped demon into a spraying frenzy.
“Lennox, meet Gibson. He was my familiar before…”
I let out a huff and try not to roll my eyes. Of course he had a skunk for a familiar, why wouldn’t that be completely normal? And here I was thinking a ferret would have been bad.
“Um, he won’t hurt you,” Rogan supplies, like it should be obvious and he’s trying to figure out why I’m acting like a mental case. “He was de-scented as a baby,” he adds casually, and I feel a blush crawling up my neck and into my cheeks.
“He can’t spray?” I ask warily, because that skunk was ass out and ready, which makes no sense if it can’t actually use said ass as a weapon.
“Not at all,” Rogan confirms.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you had a skunk for a familiar?” I demand, pushing up from his chest so I can stare down at him annoyed.
He ignores the weight of my irritated glare and moves into a sitting position, which has me straddling his lap, and us chest to chest. I’m painfully aware that I’m naked, but I’m hoping if I don’t draw attention to it that he won’t notice. This plan is getting less and less feasible as I feel my skin morph into a lovely shade of scarlet, but it’s all I have to work with at the moment.
“There’s been a lot going on. I guess I forgot,” he offers lamely, but I don’t know that I’m buying it one bit. Maybe he didn’t anticipate a naked tackle, but I could totally see him getting a rise out of freaking people out.
“Oh, you simply forgot,” I snark, my tone making it clear just how much I believe that crap.
“Why on earth did you tackle me?” he defends, turning this around on me. Typical.
“I wassavingyou,” I point out incredulously.
“From a skunk that can’t even spray?” he counters ungratefully.
“I didn’t know that at the time, you ass. It twerked in my direction, and I got the fuck out of the way. I didn’t stop and examine its equipment.”
“Gibson does not twerk.”
“Hate to break it to you, Rogan, but he sure as hell does.”
“Why are you naked?” he asks, and my mouth flops open wordlessly.
So much for his not noticing. His thumb paints an arc on the skin of my hip, and I all at once can’t help but notice how his body feels against mine. I clear my throat, brushing aside the way his soft T-shirt teases my now peaked breasts. Or the way the rough texture of his jeans feels between my thighs. I ignore how close his face is to mine, or just how intimate our current position is.
“Because your towel abandoned me in my time of need,” I defend, suddenly feeling a little breathless. “You should really get towels made of sturdier stuff.”
“I’ll get right on that,” he answers without missing a beat, his eyes fixed on mine and unreadable.
I know I should tell him to close his eyes while I get out of his lap. I know I shouldn’t feel any amount of satisfaction as he hardens beneath me. Excitement shouldn’t light up my insides simply because his breaths are coming a little quicker. His response to me shouldn’t matter.Heshouldn’t matter. But as his eyes dip down to my lips, and his fingertips warm my hips, there’s no denying thatsomethingis here...and it matters.
My heart picks up its pace, and I’m not sure what I should do. I feel like I’m on the cusp of something, but I’m not sure exactly what. Will he lean in? DoIwant to kiss him? Is it wise to add this potential complication to an already messed up situation? His eyes flick back up to mine, and I can practically see the same questions swirling in his gaze. We stare at each other, one second flowing into another. We don’t advance. We don’t retreat. We just sit in indecision until doubt starts to bloom in my chest.
We have more important things to worry about right now. This is silly and rash and the last thing we need to add to our plates. I could be reading him wrong, and really he’s just waiting for me to get my naked ass off him.
“We should, uh…” I start, shattering the weighted silence. I’m not sure if I’m putting a stop to things or offering one last opening and waiting to see if he’ll seize it.
“Right,” Rogan agrees, snapping out of his transfixed state.
