Page 109 of The Romance Line
Max
As Athena curls her furry, little body around my hand, trying to kill my fingers and bring them home to me to prove she thinks of me as part of her clan, Everly declares, “You’re a cat person.”
She says it like it makes all the sense in the world.
“Does that surprise you?” I ask, sinking deeper into the couch in my living room.
She’s right next to me, shaking her head. “The cat fits you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say.
“Of course you would.”
“Of course you meant it that way,” I say as I hand wrestle the huntress I live with. “You’re a dog person, aren’t you?”
“Um, yes. But you,” Everly says, and she’s too delighted. “You foster kittens and you’ve been keeping that a secret.”
I shrug. “Can you blame me? If I’d told you I fostered kittens, you would’ve had a field day with it.”
“You’re right. I would.” Her lips twitch with amusement. “Imagine if people knew what you’re really like.”
“What am I really like?”
She raises a hand. Counts off on her fingers. “A guy who fosters kittens. Who coaches underprivileged kids in hockey. Who asks his dad for help planning a date. Who cannot stop romancing me. You’re too sw?—”
I cover her mouth with mine before she can saysweet.I give her a hard, punishing kiss, letting go of Athena. There’s nothing sweet about this kiss at all. It’s rough and demanding, full of teeth and fire. I tug on her bottom lip, then let go. “Don’t make me give you too many orgasms again.”
“Oh, please. Punish me,” she says, then fiddles with the bottom of her T-shirt. “You know why I wore the shirt.”
“Because it shows off your sexy shoulder?” It’s such a gift to compliment her.
“Sort of,” she says, then tips her forehead toward the hallway. Don’t have to tell me twice. I offer my hand, then pull her up. Once we’re standing, she says, “I wore it because…it’s easy access.”
Oh, hell yes.
I scoop her up, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her to the main bedroom in seconds. I set her down on the plush carpet and she turns, checking out the floor-to-ceiling windows and the view of the city, lit up and sparkling, from Richardson Bay to the Golden Gate Bridge. But nothing compares to the view in front of me—Everly walking over to my king-size bed. She sits on it andpats the mattress, looking my way. “Is this where you fucked my panties?”
Jesus. Her mouth. Her filthy mouth.
I stalk over to her, cup her chin, lift that gorgeous face. “No. I couldn’t wait. Fucked them on my couch.”
Her smile is filthy. “You dirty, horny man.”
“Yes,” I say unapologetically.
She teases at the bottom of her shirt. “Bet you fucked your fist, too, the night you found my lingerie in Seattle.”
“I fucking did.”
She nibbles on the corner of her lips, then asks, “Want to see all ofthat bralette?”
That bralette.
Those words echo in my mind. “You wore that bralette for me?”
“Yes,” she says with a too-pleased smile.
“Want to show me, sunshine?”