Two Bar Mitzvahs (No Weddings #3)(48)

Earlier that morning, I’d stocked the bar myself the way we did it at Loading Zone, with a few minor adjustments to allow for the variety of tropical drinks she’d be serving.

“Yep. And nope. All set.”

I grinned, nodding over her shoulder as a small group strolled around the corner of the house. “Good. The first guests are arriving. Get ready to dance.”

She raised her fist up for our kickoff ritual that we did at each bar opening. “Dance, monkey, dance.”

I bumped knuckles with her. “Shout out at me or one of my sisters if you need anything.”

Before the crazy began, I slipped back inside the house and found Hannah at the sink, washing her hands. “You all set?”

She nodded. “It’s perfect. Time to go change?”

I planted my hands on her hips and spun her around toward the stairs. “I thought you’d never ask.”

We raced up the stairs and down the hall, opening the door to my room. Ava let out a high-pitched whine from her crate in the bathroom, and Hannah rushed over to let her out. “Hey, Ava. It’s okay, girl. Mommy and daddy are here.”

I blinked, lungs stuttering on a breath as Ava’s pink tongue coated Hannah’s face. Finally, I sucked in a full breath of air. Kids and parenting were a distant someday thought with no bearing on present-day. I’d never imagined we were parents. But I guess, to a little German Shepherd puppy, when Mase wasn’t mothering and spoiling her, we were, which was okay. Puppy parents I could handle without too much anxiety.

Hannah handed me the leash and clicked the other end into her collar. “Will you take her out while I change? She’ll never make it through the party.”

Now I whined. “But I planned on crowding you into my walk-in closet to make us late for the party.”

She put her hands on her hips, giving me the classic impatient woman look.

Where did those annoyed looks originate, anyway? Women must’ve patented the damned thing and gifted the ability to each other when men weren’t paying attention. I sighed, raising my hands in surrender. “Fine. I’m going. Shit patrol first. Naughty closet groping later.”

Hannah snorted, closing the door after us with a firm click.

The mundane task of walking a dog turned into an adventure, but I enjoyed the low-energy break. Whenever Ava stood in one patch of grass, intent on grid patterning by the square inch to capture every distinct scent, I had introspection time, grateful again for our quasi-getaway weekend. In spite of the hectic pace of the party, I’d seen more of Hannah in the last twenty-four hours than I’d spent with her all week. And to be isolated from outside stressors, namely Madison’s meddling, was worth the cost of Hannah and I having to share ourselves with others, even our dog.

By the time we returned from ten minutes of investigating every flower pot and bush for the perfect place to pee and take a doggy dump, and another ten minutes where sharp-as-a-tack Cade had to tie up an excited puppy while he went in search of a plastic bag he’d forgotten to bring, Hannah was fully dressed and ready to go.

And I couldn’t even be mad. I stood in the doorway, staring in as she twirled with a beautiful smile on her face, happy.

“Wow. You look stunning, Maestro.” A white dress with pink straps and a low neckline hugged her body until it reached her hips, where the material flared out.

My gaze traveled down to where those sexy toned thighs stretched out from the dress. “Are those petticoats?” I blinked. In Pavlovian response, my cock began to harden at the instant flood of memories. Hannah’s petticoats and I had a naughty history. Our first closet encounter, actually.

“Sure are.” Her eyes danced with amusement.

I pulled my T-shirt over my head and ripped open my button fly, gaping at her. “But I didn’t even get to have any closet time.”

She laughed, spinning me around toward the closet and shoving me forward. “You can take your closet time now, if you want. We can make closet time later.”

I growled and shucked off my jeans in the cold, dark space, wishing her warm naked body was wrapped around me. “Fine. But I may be in a grouchy mood until later rolls around.” With a yank that sent a hanger flying to the ground, I pulled a pair of black linen pants down and stabbed my feet into the fabric, before pulling them up, buttoning them, and zipping the fly.

Her light laugh sounded out closer behind me as I slid my arms into a linen shirt. I turned to find her standing mere inches away with a pretty little smirk. Shirt hanging unbuttoned, I bent down and crushed her lips in a heated kiss, wiping that smirk off her face.

She gasped, and I slowly grinned against her lips.

It wouldn’t take much. Another couple seconds of kissing, a few strategically placed brushes in her most sensitive places, and I’d have her shivering, begging for more.

Before I got the chance to enact any of my covert plans, she broke away and pushed me back. With a stern look, she began buttoning my shirt from the top down, keeping her distance. “Later.” Her single word was emphasized with an arched brow.

“Later. I’m beginning to like that word, actually. It’s now weighted with all kinds of filthy thoughts.”

She fought a smile. “I bet I could make you love ‘later,’ when we have all the time in the world to explore the dark closet you drag me into.”

“Oh, f*ck yes. Later keeps getting better and better.” I growled low, chest heaving from thoughts drifting into my mind.