Angel Falling (Falling #1)(25)
“Dinner’s ready,” I tipped Hank’s face and sealed my lips over his once more.
Hank gave me a few more wet smacks. No man had ever kissed me the way Hank did. He put everything into each and every pull of his full lips, each swipe of his perfect tongue. He made kissing feel like a new experience, something to savor and relish.
“Pen! Pen where are you?” Oh Jesus no. Why is everyone and everything preventing me from getting it on with this man? My inner bitch pulled out her boxing gloves and got ready to take down the next intruder.
“You sure have a lot of people in your personal space. Doesn’t that get annoying?” Hank stroked my breast and let out a low chuckle, his thumb swirling around my nipple in maddeningly accurate circles.
London strolled through the door and we both turned our heads toward her.
She pointed a manicured finger at the both of us. “I knew it!” She screamed with glee.
I closed my eyes and Hank shifted, placing a hand on each hip as she entered. I was never going to live this down. The interrogation wouldn’t end until she got blood.
She glided into the room smelling of cinnamon and looking like she just walked off a Hawaiian Tropics calendar. Her hand jutted out toward Hank. He smiled and shook hers. “I’m London Kelley. You must be the hunk—I mean Hank.” She grinned at her own slip-up. My intuition told me she did it on purpose.
Hank looked her up and down. “Damn, good genes in the Reynolds family.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re the dark version of my angel here.” Hank clasped my neck in a possessive maneuver my sister zeroed in on in two seconds flat.
“Angel?” London queried with a sly smile, her gaze falling on the hand at my nape.
“London, what are you doing here?” A deep sigh slipped past my lips.
“What? I can’t just pop by and see my sister?”
“No.” My glare was a large block of ice, and she fidgeted under its weight.
“I wanted to meet your friend,” she announced boldly. “He saved your life. I owe him a great deal.”
“Sweetie, you don’t owe me nothin’. I’m just glad I was in the right place at the right time.” His hands caressed my hips, either to solidify his point or just to touch me. The man liked to touch me. All the time. I sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.
My sister melted into a pool of mush at Hank’s proclamation. She was being taken over by the Southern charm. Easy to fall under. I was damn near drowning in it after three days.
“Middag serveras!” Gustav shouted once more from down the hall, sounding very irritated.
“Oh! Dinner. I’m starving. Can I stay?” London asked.
Thou shalt not throttle thy sister was the mantra I repeated over and over internally.
“Yes, of course you can.”
Hank pulled back the sheet and stood. His frame was enormous and swallowed up the space. He had on plain black boxer shorts that hugged and accentuated his hips and thighs’ mouthwatering proportions. Both London and I were transfixed at the sight of his mostly naked body.
“Damn, Sis. You’re one lucky bitch.”
I stood there, biting my lip and nodding at the perfect specimen that was Hank Jensen. He was all man, and I wanted to lick and suck on every inch.
Hank grinned. “Why, thank you, I think?” he said as he slipped into a pair of soft gray sweats. “Darlin’, do you think you could help me with this here shirt?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“I’ll just tell Gustav I’m staying. Piss him off a little. See you in the kitchen,” London said and left.
“Sure.” I squeezed my legs together as the raging lust that diminished with my sister’s intrusion roared back to life. Staring at this perfect man’s bare chest and sexy grin did all kinds of things to my lady bits. Hank presented the shirt to me as I tried to get ahold of my hormones.
***
After a few fumbles and laughs we reapplied the sling and got my shirt on. It was fun to watch Aspen try not to touch me during the process. Every time her hands landed on an exposed part of my skin she’d jump as if burned by a hot poker. I got what I wanted in the end, though. Before we entered the kitchen, I had her little body pinned against the wall with my mouth on hers, kissing the daylights out of her.
She rubbed at her kiss-swollen, reddened lips as we entered the kitchen. I couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off my face. I loved making this woman blush and right now she was three shades of pink. Her sister London was a looker and had a matching knowing smile plastered across her face. She looked exactly like Aspen, only with dark hair and skin. Same gray-blue eyes and facial structure, too. Based on the flowing clothes and chipper personality she seemed a lot more easygoing, more free-spirited than Aspen. Didn’t matter.
There was something special about Aspen that had me in a full-body twist. ‘Sides her beauty, there was a little extra sparkle in her eyes when I looked at her, something that drew me to her, made me ache to be near her. Damn if I wasn’t going to figure it out.
Dinner was incredible. That gourmet chef of hers definitely had talent in the kitchen. He served us some type of bird with a fancy glaze I couldn’t pronounce, and an interesting side dish that looked like tiny little balls.
“What’s this called again?” I pointed at the yellow balls.