Hosed (Happy Cat #1)(22)

“I don’t know.” I glance into the living room from my place by the stove only to find George’s usual napping spot in the corner of the couch empty. “He might have let himself out through the cat door to use the facilities. He’ll be back once he hears the popcorn popping. He’s addicted to the stuff.”

Cassie laughs. “Really? Can he eat that? Is that okay?”

“Totally fine. I asked the vet. As long as it doesn’t have any butter or salt on it.”

“But we’re going to have butter and salt on ours, right?” she asks hopefully.

“Hell, yes, we are,” I say, laughing as she claps her hands happily.

“Excellent. But don’t worry, I won’t tell George.”

“That’s good of you. Don’t want him to know you’re getting special treatment.” I wink at her, loving the way she flushes in response.

But it turns out we don’t have to worry about George’s butter-induced jealousy. He doesn’t show up for movie time and Cassie and I have the entire couch to ourselves. We snuggle close, her tucked under my arm with no cuddle bandit wedged in between us with popcorn strewn across his furry belly. It’s nice, more than nice, and by the time the credits roll, Cassie is practically in my lap, our empty popcorn bowls discarded on the floor by the couch so we could get as close as two people can get while upright and fully clothed.

“That was sad.” Cassie sniffs as she lifts her shimmering eyes to mine. “But lovely.”

“You’re lovely,” I say, tucking a lock of silky soft hair behind her ear.

Her eyes tighten around the edges. “No, I’m not. I’m cute. On a good day.”

“No, you’re beautiful. Every day.” I kiss her again, proving the fireworks earlier today weren’t a freak occurrence. They’re just what happen when our lips meet, when she sighs into my mouth and her tongue dances with mine and her breasts flatten against my chest, threatening to give me a heart attack.

I can’t remember the last time I wanted a woman this much, if I’ve ever wanted a woman this much.

“Ryan, I need to tell you something,” Cassie says as I urge her thighs to either side of my hips.

“Yeah?”

She straddles me, the seam of her shorts pressing against where I’m already hard, and I fight a groan. Her breath hitches as I slip my hand beneath the hem of her shirt.

“Um…nothing. It’s nothing,” she says.

“Are you sure?” I cup her breast through her spandex bra, head spinning as she arches into my touch, silently giving me permission to keep doing what I’m doing.

“Yes,” she whispers, then, “Oh, yes,” shivering as I brush my thumb over the tight peak straining the thin fabric.

“I want to see you, Cassie.” I capture her nipple between my finger and thumb, rolling gently. “I want to kiss you everywhere.”

She nods and reaches for the bottom of her shirt in response. I help her whip her clothes over her head—first her tee shirt, then her bra—and in mere moments I’m cupping her breasts reverently in both hands. She’s stunning, so breathtaking it takes a beat for my tongue to remember how to make words and then a beat longer to decide words are a waste at a time like this.

I lean in, kissing first one dusky pink tip and then the other, circling the taut flesh with my tongue before sucking her gently into my mouth.

“Oh my God, Ryan.” Cassie’s fingers thread into my hair, pulling me close as her head falls back. “Oh my God.”

I groan against her softness and suckle her deeper as she grinds against me, every roll of her hips making me hotter, harder, until I can barely breathe, barely think. There is nothing in my head but Cassie—her salt and flower scent, the sexy sounds she makes as I transfer my attention to her other perfect breast, the way her arms tremble on either side of my face as she digs her fingernails into the skin at the back of my neck and her breath comes faster.

I’m about to ask if I can carry her down the hall—to my bedroom, to my bed, where I intend to show her just how good my tongue can make other parts of her feel—when it happens.

One second I’m kissing Cassie’s incomparable breasts while she rides me through our clothes, and the next a large, heavy, Unidentified Falling Object plops down between us with a high-pitched squeal.

Suddenly, my mouth is full of fur and chaos is breaking out on the couch.

Cassie screams, I grunt, and the psychotic fur ball wedged between us chitters in panic, raking his claws down my throat and trying to get off my lap by going through my face. Cassie cries out again and scrambles off my lap and I’m left with a fat-ass, mood-killing raccoon curled around my shoulders like a mink stole.

George’s tail is in my mouth, and both of his clawed hands cover my eyes, obstructing the view of Cassie grabbing her clothes from the floor.

By the time I coax the furry beast off my head and off the couch, Cassie’s shirt is back on and she’s dashing across the living room.

“I’m sorry,” I say, standing up fast. “I don’t know what got into him. He must have fallen asleep up there and then decided he was ready to get down the fast way.”

“On the fan?” Cassie says with a tight laugh.

“He did it once before. No idea how he gets up there.” I shoot George a hard look as he winds around my leg and sits down on my foot, impeding my progress toward Cassie with his stubborn bulk. “But I’ll figure it out. Please, don’t go.”