The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(83)

“Incredibly sexy,” he said. “And you’re more of a mystery than you know.” He pressed close, the heat of his body instantly enveloping her. “Brooke. Look at me.”

She dragged her eyes open. His lashes were wet and spiky, his eyes almost black with intensity. “I’ve got something to say.”

She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Garrett—”

“I’m still addicted to you,” he said, and then kissed her, deep and hungry and powerful. The night, the moon, the stars all spun around her, and as it continued, she felt his warm hands brush her breasts. He raised his head and she arched her back, naked in the moonlight, begging without words for him to keep touching her, for him to find her irresistible, for him to want her, yearn for her, be unable to imagine his life without her, in spite of all her shortcomings and failings.

And where that thought came from, she had no idea.

He stood, easily boosting her in his arms, still kissing her as she wrapped her legs around him.

“Thought the warm water was healing,” she managed.

“I’ve got something better.” With both of them naked and dripping wet, he strode with her into his house, where they were met by three judging cats, eyes narrowed.

“Scram,” Garrett said, heading straight up the stairs, still dripping water without a care.

“Wow. You stained the stair railings and wood trim in here. It looks great.”

Garrett stopped walking and looked at her. “When you said ‘wow,’ I thought you were talking about my manly prowess.”

“Your manly prowess is intact,” she assured him. “But the railings and trim look amazing.”

He took it in. “Son of a bitch. The guy can’t mind his own damn business.”

“I think you are his business,” she said. “Are you telling me he stayed up all night doing this for you before he took off?”

His gaze slid to hers, and she bit her lower lip to keep a smile in. “You’re wearing the same expression your cats are wearing,” she said.

“Not my cats. Ann’s cats.”

“Uh-oh. Are you no longer in the mood?”

He shouldered opened his bedroom door and set her on his bed. Actually, it was more like tossed her on the bed. She bounced once and then he was on her, pinning her down to the mattress, letting her feel exactly what she did to him. “Okay,” she practically purred, running her hands up his sleek, still damp back. His muscles bunched enticingly. “So you’re still in the mood.”

“With you, always,” he said, rubbing his jaw to hers like a big cat. A big, feral cat. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to the scar low on her belly, and her heart rolled over for him. Then he rose up and kissed her mouth.

It was a delicious, sensuous, erotic kiss with a lot of tongue, and heat exploded inside her, simultaneously rushing north to make her nipples happy and south to make the rest of her happy. When his mouth trailed along her throat, she just about lost consciousness. “Kiss me again,” she demanded.

“Because you need it in twos?”

“Because I’m going to die if you don’t kiss me again.”

He flashed a grin, but before he could, there was a thump on his bedroom door.

“Ignore them,” Garrett said.

“Them?” she squeaked, trying to sit up.

Garrett slid his hands around the backs of her thighs and tugged so that she fell flat on her back again. “The cats. They’re jealous of you. I’m their man.”

She laughed, but it backed up in her throat as his hands began performing his special brand of fire and magic, and then his mouth followed. He liked to kiss, a lot, and he especially liked to take his time about it, which always left her a panting, anticipatory, needy hot mess. “Garrett.”

Sliding off the bed, he dropped to his knees between her legs. Eyes dark and heated and locked on hers, his hands skimmed the backs of her thighs, his gaze slowly traveled over the length of her body. “Pretty,” he said roughly, and she felt a rush that was nearly an orgasm.

Then he put his mouth on her, and she was very glad there were only cats in the house, because she couldn’t have kept quiet to save her own life.

By the time he was finished with her, she was a floppy rag doll, making contented purring noises. “I owe the cats for letting me share you,” she said with a wide yawn, unable to keep her eyes open.

“Take as much of me as you want,” he murmured. “I’m all yours.”

She smiled as she drifted off, hoping against hope it might actually be true.





Chapter 20


“Skinny-dipping is off the table.”

By the time Mindy and Linc left the hospital, picked up the kids, and got them fed, bathed, and into bed, Mindy was stick-a-fork-in-her done. She staggered into her bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Her hair flopped in her face. She was hot and sweaty and wearing her PMS shorts—which were really maternity shorts, but she’d die before admitting that.

She could hear Linc in the shower. She rolled across their big bed and caught sight of something on his nightstand. The Hawaii tickets, dated for next week. She’d actually completely forgotten about the trip he’d promised her, but the thought of having Linc to herself for days on end made her hope against hope that they really could get away, just the two of them. In one hotel room, with one bed and hopefully no couch . . .