Gerry shifts between my legs, trying to get comfortable. The only way to get him to keep quiet at night is to let him share the couch with me, and every time I shift, he clucks bloody murder. I press my palm lightly against his speckled back until the protesting subsides.
A crack of thunder rips through the air, sending Gerry into a spastic state of squawks.
“The ladies will never like you if you keep making such a fuss,” I tell him, but mating seems to be the last thing on his mind.
Unfortunately, it’s at the very top of mine.
The clock on the mantel says 1:47 a.m.
She’s probably asleep by now.
Curled in my bed, hair spilling across the pillow, breathing slow and even. I shut my eyes hard, willing the image away.
It doesn’t leave.
How the hell did I let it get to this?
A door creaks, and a sliver of light shines on the wall.
“Kell?”
My heart lurches in my chest at the sound of my name on her lips. “Yeah?”
Footsteps cross the hardwood. She stops a few feet away from the couch. She’s wearing one of my tee-shirts, the hem skimming her bare thighs, and my body goes instantly, helplessly tight with want.
The situation is made worse by her decision not to wear a bra, which is evident by her breasts sitting a little lower on her chest, and the outline of her nipples poking through the thin fabric. A man notices such things.
As if the hint of her breasts weren’t bad enough, the sight of her legs poking out from the stolen shirt turns my brain to jelly.
Lightning flickers white across the windows, lighting her pretty face for half a second, showing me she’s worried.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she says. “It’s the storm.”
Thunder booms, and Gerry launches himself off my lap, settling in a chair that’s tucked under the table.
Greer takes one step closer. Then another. She’s close enough now that I can see the faint tremor in her hands, the way her breath catches when lightning cracks again.
“Kellan.” The way she says my name makes my pulse slam, pumping pure fire through my veins.
I sit up slowly, stretching the soreness from my limbs.
“Go back to bed,” I tell her.
“I can’t. Not when it’s storming like this.”
I lean forward, scrubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands to banish the sleep away. “I can’t have you out here.”
“Why?”
“Because seeing you half-dressed makes me want to rail you into the goddamn floor.” Honesty was probably not the way to go here, but I’m too damn tired and horny to think up a response for polite society, and if my crass words scare her away—good.
“Well, that certainly sounds better than going back to bed alone.”
My head snaps up, eyes locking with hers.
“Stop being so grumpy!” She walks forward three steps, stopping directly in front of me, our legs nearly touching. “I’m more than just Rus’s sister—I’m an adult, my own person, with my own wants and needs.” All at once, she lifts her shirt up, pulls it off her body, and drapes it over my face.
Her scent overwhelms me, and my cock grows painfully hard, becoming impossible to hide in my pajama pants. Which is the last goddamn thing I need right now.
