Hosed (Happy Cat #1)(44)

Ever.

Never ever.

He moans and dips his head to my shoulder, tensing with every aftershock that rumbles through my body.

The last of the spasms leave me boneless on the bed, and I suddenly break into a fit of giggles.

Ryan lifts his head and cocks an amused brow at me, his eyes sleepy and satisfied. “You found my performance amusing, Ms. Sunderwell?”

“No,” I gasp, trying to catch my breath. My lungs are still heaving despite every other muscle and organ in my body being turned to happy, satisfied goo. “I’m trying to imagine a dildo doing that for a woman.”

He huffs out a laugh and shifts so that he’s not in danger of crushing me before pulling me close. His heart drums steady and strong against my ear, and I cuddle closer.

This afterglow stuff rocks.

“I think you have sex toys beat,” I tell him.

“You most definitely have sex toys beat.” He strokes my back and presses a kiss to my head. “Thank you for letting me be your first time.”

“Thank you for being my first time.” I pause, because the Cassie of two weeks ago wouldn’t have had the bravery to say everything else I want to say. But I don’t want to be the Cassie of two weeks ago.

I want to be the Cassie of today.

“I’m glad I waited for you,” I whisper.

His arms tighten around me, and one big hand cups my breast. “Me too,” he whispers back. “Me too.”





Twenty-Two





Ryan





* * *



Like most mornings, I wake up with a thirty-pound raccoon asleep on my head and a crick in my neck from being pushed off my pillow in the middle of the night.

But this morning, I’m too ridiculously, outrageously, obnoxiously happy to care.

I float into consciousness with a smile on my face, a grin that gets bigger when I realize the warm weight on my chest is Cassie still snuggled beside me, her legs tangled in mine and her arm draped over my ribs. Memories from last night rush in, feeding the happy flames until I’ve got a bonfire roaring inside of me.

I’ve had my share of amazing nights with incredible women, but nothing like this.

Nothing like her.

I glance down, watching Cassie’s eyelids flutter in her sleep, wondering how it’s possible that she keeps getting prettier every time I look at her. Even now, with mascara smudged beneath her lashes and her hair in a wild tangle around her face, I could stare at her for hours.

But unfortunately the cranky bastard waking up on my head with a grumpy clacking sound has a limited tolerance for lolling about in bed. At least not until I’ve fetched his breakfast first.

“Five more minutes,” I whisper, brushing George’s paw away from my forehead.

He chitters in response and transfers his attention to my nose, squeezing the tip before trying to dart a digit into my nostril, something he knows drives me up the fucking wall.

“No, George,” Cassie murmurs sleepily. “You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose.”

George gurgles in surprise—apparently only just realizing we’re not alone in bed—and rolls off the pillow, landing on the floor with a thunk and squeak.

Cassie props up on her arms, eyes wide. “Oh no, is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” I say, grinning as George croaks irritably from the floor, making it clear he would disagree with that statement. “He’s like a cat. He always lands on his feet. Or his ass. But considering the size of his rear end, that’s a pretty soft place to land.”

Cassie giggles. “I was wondering about that. I did a little Googling, and I don’t think raccoons are supposed to be quite so…fluffy.”

George croaks again and we both burst out laughing.

“I know,” I say, still grinning so hard the muscle in my jaw is starting to ache. “The vet is always on me to put him on a diet, but if I cut portion size at home, he just goes looking for more food in the nearest dumpster. I should probably take him on longer walks. Or get him back on his tricycle.”

“No way.” She pulls on her glasses while she narrows her eyes at me. “You’re messing with me. George can’t ride a tricycle.”

“George can ride a tricycle,” I say, lifting two fingers in the air when she puckers her lips doubtfully in response. “Scout’s honor. I modified Blake’s old trike with a longer handle for him. We can take him out for a ride later if you want.” I curl an arm around her waist, pulling her soft, warm body closer, wishing she hadn’t pulled my tee shirt on before we drifted off last night. The only thing better than waking up with Cassie in my bed would be waking up with Cassie naked in my bed. “I mean, assuming you’re up for spending more time with us.”

Her lips curve in a shy smile. “Yeah. I would like that. I had a good time with you last night.”

“I had a wonderful time with you last night,” I say, letting my hand drift down to cup her ass through the tee shirt fabric. “Best night ever.”

Her grin stretches to take up more real estate on her pretty face. “Whatever. I bet you say that to all the girls.”

I shake my head, voice serious as a heart attack as I promise, “No. I don’t.”