A frown pulls at his lips, so I kiss the drooping corners.
“Everyone will know,” he murmurs.
“It wouldn’t take them long to find out, anyway.”
“Right… because of our scents?”
“That. And also about a microsecond of seeing the way I look at you.”
A blush rises to his cheeks even as he clicks his tongue. “If you become some pathetic, love-struck simp making goo-goo eyes at me all the time, I swear to god?—”
It’s sodeliciouslyeasy to snake my hand around to the front of his chest, using my grip across his collarbone and throat to shove his back into the open bathroom door. His gasp of surprise passes under my palm, and his dark pupils spread wide as he looks up at me.
My purring growl rattles by his ear. “I was more thinking when I look at you likethis.”
I feel it in my blood and see it reflected in his eyes, in how his muscles slacken under my touch.
Predatory. Possessive.
My grip tightens around his throat. “They will all knowimmediately… that you aremine.”
God, I love to watch him melt. That moment of resistance, then blossoming surrender. Lavender florals weave stronger through his scent.
I lean down and claim his mouth, still as sweet as the first time I tasted him. My hand slides down his body, savoring every hot inch, until I palm his throbbing cock. He moans and arches for me, head tipping back and jaw falling open, beckoning my tongue down his throat.
I savor the last meeting of our lips, then break the kiss, grabbing a fluffy terry robe from the hook and pulling it around him. I don’t bother to get his arms through the holes before I cinch the belt tight and slip on my own robe.
He looks up at me, caught between arousal and anger, and makes a whimpering huff.
“Time for breakfast,” I say, stepping past him.
“Wha—Tee! What the fuck?!”
I chuckle, enjoying the sound of his feet padding behind me as he awkwardly tries to free his arms. It doesn’t take him long—he’s plenty nimble—and he grumbles as he joins me in the kitchen.
After putting the kettle on the stove, I lean over and press the back of my hand against his forehead.
He permits it. “What’s the verdict?”
“Your fever’s let up a little, so it’s a good time to stuff you?—”
He yelps reflexively.
A wicked, wicked grin spreads across my face. I prowl toward him, and his eyes widen as he scoots defensively around the island. I back him into the pantry door, catching his chin with the tip of my finger.
“I was going to say… stuff you with food and make sure you’re hydrated. But it’s very good to know how…” I trail my nail down his neck, over his Adam’s apple to rest between his collarbones. “…responsiveyou are.”
Mylo shudders, chest rising and falling rapidly under my touch.
Then I step away, heading to the cabinet-front fridge to get some eggs.
I count the seconds until Mylo recovers enough to complain.
“Cut it out,” he huffs.
Thirty-five. Not bad.
“Why should I? It’s fun.” If my tail were out, it would swish behind my calves, sultry and satisfied.
