Without a Hitch(70)

Her gaze drops to my crotch, and I watch in satisfaction as her eyes do a triple take. I might feel marginally better if they start to roll like the exorcist, but the hitch in her breath has my cock reaching for her sassy mouth.

“They, well, shit. They look good on you.”

“What?” I don’t want to snap at her, so I take a deep breath before continuing, but surely she’s joking. Baby trackies look good on no one! Even my custom suits were never good enough for Christine.

“Yeah, ah, sweatpants look good on you. Come on. The hammock is waiting for us.” She grabs my arm with the intention of guiding me outside.

“I’m not leaving this house in these things.” Digging in my heels, I stop her from dragging me from the room.

Her laughter is light and makes me frown. “You think this is funny?” My heart flutters in my chest like it’s dancing to her song.

“I think it’s funny that you have such an aversion to comfort.”

“I most certainly do not.” Even as I say it, my spine straightens. “I have a luxury home. A luxury car. A bloody luxury plane, for Christ’s sake.”

“That you wear three-piece suits in. All the time.”

“Yes.”

“You’re stiff, Lochlan.”

“I’m not.”

She raises that damn brow to contradict me, and without a zipper to control my cock, he bobs happily. I want this sassy, outspoken goddess like I want my next breath, and it doesn’t seem to dissipate the more she frustrates me. If anything, I like her more. The more she pushes, the more I want her. It’s all kinds of fucked up.

“Lochlan, what do you put on when you wake up in the morning?”

I cross my arms and feel the cotton baby trackies slip lower on my hips. The way Tilly’s eyes smolder when she notices is the only upside of these godforsaken things. When I don’t answer, she crosses the room and places her palms on my biceps.

“When you wake up in the morning, what do you put on to roam around your house?”

“I wake up, start the coffee in the butler’s pantry of my bedroom, shower, then dress for the day.”

“You make coffee in your bedroom?” She tilts her head back, appearing confused.

“Yes.”

A sexy V forms between her brows, and I lean down to kiss it. She swats me away.

“Okay, we’re getting sidetracked. So, you wake up. Make coffee. Shower and get dressed. In a suit. Every day.”

Feeling attacked, I shrug. “I don’t always put the jacket on right away.”

Tilly fights a smile and loses the battle. But her gaze is kind and sweet, just like the rest of her. I clench my ass cheeks in an attempt at taming the hard-on, but it proves fruitless. She wants me in the damn things, she’ll just have to deal with the consequences.

“I’m going to teach you to have fun and relax,” she says with authority.

“If you don’t step back and stop touching me, I will show you my favorite way of relaxing really soon.” My voice is hoarse, and it broadcasts my lack of control around her.

She tilts her head and moves her body closer to mine. My nostrils flare, and my muscles burn with the effort of holding still while being so tense you could bounce quarters off my pecs. Her hands slide up my chest and wrap around my neck. She encourages me to bend at the waist with a gentle tug so her lips land at my ear.

Her quick breath hits the sensitive flesh there as she pants lightly. “Tilly.” I groan but don’t move to embrace her. If I do, I’ll come undone. Instead, I watch in approval as her little body shivers in response to my tone.

“Later, lover. Right now, we need to talk.”

My hands fly to her backside, and I grab two handfuls, giving each cheek a rough squeeze. “Then I suggest you move this ass before I penetrate it.” The words even shock me. I’ve never been this demanding with anyone, but apparently, I’m incapable of controlling this side of myself around her.

I don’t know if it’s a mewl or a squeak that escapes her throat, but she moves faster than I’ve ever seen her, and I follow in hot pursuit, the baby trackies forgotten until my cock swings around inside them like a giant inflatable balloon marching down the street in a Thanksgiving Day parade.

“How the bloody fucket do men walk in these things?”

Tilly’s eyes go wide with mirth as she calls over her shoulder. “I think most men wear underwear, Lochlan.”

“That’s a hard fucking no.” She’s sprinting around the bungalow, grabbing things in each hand. I stalk behind her because I can’t stop until my hands are on her in some way.

I follow her laughter out onto the patio, and my body relaxes at the sheer joy on her pretty face.

She points at the hammock with the book in her hand. “Sit.”

I comply and gingerly fold myself into the swing, but I can’t relax. The damn thing sways, and I windmill my arms to keep from toppling out the other side. I know she’s excited about this thing, but has she ever actually attempted to sit in one?

She hasn’t stopped laughing, but at least, for the moment, I’m not in danger of falling on my face.

“Scoot over.”

I spread my legs wide to straddle the hammock and place my feet on the ground to keep my balance. “Are you fucking with me?”