“Yes,” she whispered.
He lowered his head, burying it in her neck.
And he thrust one last time as her orgasm unraveled her entirely. He groaned out his own release, his whole body shaking.
And then she held him. As he held her.
She wanted to stay. But she didn’t know what his policy was on that. He was so against relationships and . . . she did have the animals.
“I should go,” she said.
“You don’t have to.”
“I do, though. Because in the morning I’m going to have to get up really early and take care of all the critters.”
He regarded her, his gaze steady. “What if Hank and I went to your place for the night? He’s got his crate. So that should keep him away from the animals that don’t care for him much.”
Oh right. Pascal and Maleficent didn’t like Hank. As if she needed another barrier between herself and Remy.
“That’s really sweet,” she said.
He touched her face. “It’s not sweet. We were just together, and I wouldn’t feel right about us sleeping apart tonight.”
“Is that what you do with Everywoman? Or is that just me?”
The answer to that question probably wouldn’t make her very happy. In truth, she shouldn’t have asked it. But she had. Because she didn’t have the fortitude to not ask.
“No. I don’t spend the night with other women. But you’re not other women, Lydia. You’re you. And you mean a hell of a lot to me.”
“You mean a lot to me too.”
But she knew she meant it in a deeper way than he did. She wasn’t going to dwell on that. She wasn’t going to let it hurt.
So she let him pack Hank’s crate up. Let him load everything into his truck and follow her back to her house.
When they opened the door, all her animals were beside themselves. Hank was on a leash, and Pascal paused on the counter to give him deadly raccoon side eye.
“Pascal,” she said. “You need to behave yourself. He’s not going to hurt you.”
Hank really had proven to be a perfect gentleman in every venue he’d visited so far. He had been lovely to Wesley, and totally fine at her parents’ house. But here, his size was an issue. He was making her poor wary animals nervous.
But they were going to have to get over it. Because Remy was going to be spending the night at her house. And Remy and Hank were a package deal.
Just as she came with . . . well, all this.
Pascal was highly irritated, his body language completely indignant.
“Sorry,” she said.
And then Maleficent burst down the hallway, barking and barking, her Chihuahua rage knowing no bounds. Chewy loped behind her, entirely unbothered, as he always was. Lydia bent down and scooped Maleficent up. “Now,” she said. “You’re fine. Hank is nice.”
From her high-up perch, Maleficent was entirely too confident. And when Lydia tried to lower her to greet Hank, she growled at him.
Hank, for his part, didn’t react at all.
It wouldn’t be fair to him to turn Maleficent loose on him.
Chewy and Hank sniffed each other, and Chewy went to lie on his bed after about thirty seconds of sniff introduction.
