He crushed me against him, arms binding me so close I could feel the racing of his heart. His mouth locked on mine, and everything else completely stopped existing. His broad, dominating tongue swept into my mouth as his lips pursued mine again and again. Devouring was an understatement for the way he kissed. It was being stripped down to exposed nerve endings, being starved and finally fed. It was realizing there was no point in hiding anything because he’d already found it all.
I whimpered, and he echoed a sound, drawing my top lip between his to suckle it while knotting his fingers into my hair. When he released, I grabbed his face and pulled him back, kissing him hard and open-mouthed until my fingers ached from the strain.
“No one ever surprises me,” he said, nudging my cheek with his nose. In my ear, he whispered, “But you do. You do.”
I dripped down his body like melted wax, making him chuckle as he sat me on the bed. Too soon, he stepped away, but it was only to retrieve his old pair of socks from my closet and kneel at my feet.
“Is there anything else you need to check?” he asked, slipping the fabric over my toes.
I shook my head. The only things I really cared aboutwere accounted for.
“Good.”
Curling my hands into the fabric of the too-long arms of the hoodie, I wondered. “Why?”
“Because, my little pipgeek, I want answers. And I want them now.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Ghost
Surprising me was about the same as folding a fitted sheet properly. It just didn’t happen.
So butter my butt and call me a biscuit because I felt like I’d just spent some time in an electric chair.
He kept everything. Right down to aseriouslymoldy cookie.
If I ever wondered if he thought of me the way I had him over the last two years, I had my answer. Might as well just handcuff me to his side and throw away the key because the longer I was around him, the harder I fell.
Hell, at this point, I’d be married with kids by dinner.
But let’s keep that little FYI on the DL because WTF.
You get all that? My guyyy, I knew you’d understand.
First things first, the WTF.
After my socks—which he’d kept—were covering his bare feet, I carried him out to the main room. By the way, I’ve seen cans of beans bigger than this place.
After placing him on the couch, I moved to grab a blanket,only to discover there wasn’t one.
“And you called me the serial killer,” I muttered. I mean, my place was minimalistic, but no blankets on the couch was just plain wrong.
“What?”
“What?” I echoed.
Spotting some black fabric on the ground, I snatched it up and shook it out to cover his legs, but he gasped.
“My coat!” he exclaimed, tugging it from my hands to hold it out and fuss over it like there was gold in the pockets.
There wasn’t, of course. I mean, it was just a coat. A worn one at that.
No, I wasn’t jealous.
Rett let out a wail and hugged the coat to his chest, eyes looking suspiciously wet.
