“Where are you going?”
“I figure at least one of us should have some shoes on.”
She looks down at her exposed, bare feet, then at mine, then drags her gaze up to my face. “Good point.”
I grab a pair of deck shoes from my closet and slip on some shorts for good measure. Wearing shoes without pants is just—wrong.
I’m back in the kitchen in seconds. Shockingly, Brie’s followed my gruff command and is right where I left her. I cross to her, slivers of porcelain crunching under the soles of my Sperrys, and scoop her up fireman-style.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Her hands alternate between pounding on my back and clutching my T-shirt.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m carrying you to safety.”
“You realize you could have just brought me a pair of shoes, don’t you?”
Honestly, I hadn’t thought of that. Not that I’m going to admit that to her. “This way’s more dramatic.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure it’s safe to put me down now, Lancelot.”
I look around, and she’s not wrong. I’ve carried her all the way out of the kitchen into the living/dining room area, well past the danger zone.
“Right.” I lower her down, her body sliding slowly, agonizingly against mine until her feet touch the floor. For some reason, even though she’s safely back on terra firma, my arms stay banded around her waist. Hers don’t move, either. They’re wrapped around my neck, her fingers flirting with the ends of my hair.
“I think I’m good,” she whispers against my ear. “You can let go.”
“So can you.”
I don’t, and neither does she. The air around us seems superheated, charged with sexual energy. All my nerve endings are on fire. Especially the ones between my legs.
“What are we doing?” Brie asks, her voice wavering. And is it my imagination, or are her eyes locked on my lips?
My tongue instinctively darts out to moisten them. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to stop.”
She looks up at me with those doe eyes, her freckled cheeks flushed and her barely covered breasts rising and falling with each shuddering breath. “Then don’t.”
It’s an invitation even a monk would have a hard time refusing. And I’m no damn monk. Which means my odds of resisting are somewhere between zip and zilch.
I bring my head down to hers and our mouths meet. It’s a kiss that’s been years in the making—at least for me. Given that much of a buildup, it shouldn’t live up to expectations. And it doesn’t. It surpasses them.
Her lips are sweet and tart, like raspberries. Her body is soft and pliant as it melts into mine. And she smells like coconut, sunshine, and salt water, a combination that’s downright intoxicating. In my arms, she’s not Jake’s little sister. She’s all woman. And from the sound of her moans, high-pitched and urgent, she’s mine for the taking.
I’m not sure how we get there, but the next thing I know I’ve got her against the wall. I nudge a knee between her legs, my hard thigh nestling right where she wants it if the way she grinds against me is anything to go on. This kiss has gone from a tentative exploration to too hot for network television in the space of a heartbeat. Not that I’m complaining. I’m as fucking far gone as she is.
Until I’m not. Something cold and wet brushes against my ankles, yanking me out of the moment and back to reality. Half reluctant, half relieved, I slide my lips from Brie’s and look down.
“Dammit, Ajani.” I don’t know what she’s gotten into, but her fur’s damp and matted and the it-wasn’t-me expression on her furry face is as guilty as hell. Probably drinking from the toilet and fell in. Again.
“Something wrong?”
Brie’s husky, sexy drawl almost sucks me back in, but I fight the urge to pin her against the wall and show her exactly how much I want her. Instead, I do the polar opposite, releasing her and pulling away, leaving her with a confused frown that’s like a punch to my gut.
“Yes. No. It’s just—I need to go check on Mirri.” If one of them was in the damn toilet, odds are the other one wasn’t far behind. And Mirri’s not anywhere near as good at climbing back out again as Ajani. Besides, I’m taking this as a sign. My cats are either the world’s greatest cock blockers, or they’re saving me from making a huge-ass mistake. And I have to clean up some broken glass.
“All righty, then.” Her husky, sexy drawl is a thing of the past. Now her voice is flat, clipped. “I’ll just grab my water and go back to bed.”
She breezes past me and heads for the kitchen, calling over her shoulder as she goes. “Nighty night, Lancelot. Sweet dreams.”
I can’t stop my eyes from watching her ass do that sexy swivel as she walks away. Little vixen. She knows exactly what—or who—I’ll be dreaming about tonight. And it sure as hell won’t be sweet.
