Still Not Over You(47)
I laugh. “I’m no animal.” At her skeptical look, my laugh deepens. “Not that much of an animal.”
“You pulled my bra down with your teeth last night.”
I grin broadly. “And I’d do it again.”
“But...should we?” Her touch of amusement fades to a worried look. “Not gonna lie – I almost died of a heart attack when Steve and Melanie caught us. I thought they’d see right through it. Did we just screw ourselves?”
“Technically we screwed each oth–”
“Landon.”
“All right, all right.” I’m taking the conversation seriously. I promise. Just can’t help having a little fun after finally having things easy between us again, even if we’ve made a million other problems. “Look. Does this feel like a mistake to you? Because it doesn’t to me.”
“I don’t know,” she admits with a frankness that’s so very Reb. “It feels good. It feels like I’m in the middle of some weird teenage daydream. But that doesn’t change the fact that things could go south really fast.”
“Okay. What ways are you worried about?”
“Well, one, we get in another fight.”
“And then we talk it out like adults instead of the teenagers we’ve been acting like,” I point out. “Next.”
“Milah.” She wrinkles her nose.
I snort. “Fuck Milah. Her private life is my business. A job. My private life isn’t hers.”
That coaxes a laugh from her, eyes glittering, a touch of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Fine. Last obstacle. Steve.”
“He’s your brother. He loves you. He’s my best friend. He won’t murder me, just potentially take off a limb or two. But sooner or later, he’ll accept that we’re adults, and it’s our choice.” I smirk. “You worry too much, Reb.”
But I’m the one with pensive thoughts on my mind, as I realize I’d said sooner or later.
As if this could be something long-term.
As if one night of hot sex has already got her embedded way too deep in me.
But she’s smiling again, letting out a sigh of relief. “You’re right. I probably do. And I mean...last night was nice. I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
“Yeah?” God, she’s got such a strong pull on me.
I can’t help pushing myself up, leaning across the island, catching her lips. I taste her deep and slow, just enough to feel her go soft against me, then draw back with one last caress of my thumb over her lower lip. This raw, primal thing inside me wants to claim her all over again.
Her eyes are smoky, dazed, dilated, and I love it. “Sounds like a deal. Now, eat, before it gets cold.”
I sink back in my seat. She settles in hers as well, picking up her fork and pushing at the stir-fry, then peeking at me shyly. “So, you’re telling Milah I’m your real girlfriend now?”
Am I? Is that what Kenna is, now?
Fuck. I don’t know. Don’t know what she is.
Don’t know how to define this, other than a ceasefire and some really hot fucking.
And I’m afraid to admit it, but I really don’t know what I’ll do if Reb gets under my skin and then winds up hating me after she sees I really am a monster, and I’m capable of things she can’t imagine.
No matter how many times we fuck, or how deep the feelings go, they won't change the past or future. I still have a killer to find, and a lot of bad blood to drain with Crown.
“I’m not telling Milah anything. It’s not Milah’s business,” I deflect, picking up my own fork. “And I don’t care about Milah, either. I’ve missed five years of your life. Catch me up on your writing, Reb. Catch me up on everything.”
That's all I want over dinner. Just her and me and a dying sunset through the glass, two dark sleepy cats flopped out near our feet.
I need tamer, innocent words.
Something to keep me warm, when the day comes that she knows me for the monster I am.
13
Not Quite Paradise (Kenna)
Velvet and Mews shouldn’t make me wonder just how good Landon might be with children.
I’m not going there. Not yet.
Not when it’s only the morning after and I’m still sore inside and sex shouldn’t be making me wonder what life could be like with him. Yet, it’s hard not to, when right now this moment feels so good. Bright and new, comfortable and sweet, me perched in one of Landon’s oversized shirts on a barstool while he makes breakfast shirtless – and feeds more of the ingredients to the circling, mewling cats than he does into the sizzling skillet.
I prop my chin on my hand, watching him fondly. “Hey, Landon, will there be anything left for us by the time you’re done?”
He glances over his shoulder with a grin. Mews hops up on the counter and yowls, demanding more, only to purr as Landon feeds him another diced bit of smoked ham that’s supposed to go in our omelets. “Now you know why they’re so fat.”
“Are they? I couldn’t tell under all that fur.”
“It’s pretty dense, isn’t it?” He strokes a palm over Mews’ ears, burying his fingers in short but thick gray fur. “They’re British blues. Shorthairs.”