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“Yeah, I don’t want my mouth on anyone else, and I don’t want yours on some motherfucker’s, either.” He pulls me in and kisses my head again. “Cecilia, I have a good feeling about this. Real good.”
I hear a door shut and turn from the pure intensity of how he’s making me feel right now.
“Think your houseguest is back.”
“Shit.” I pull away and grab clothes.
He ends up with my pants, and when he kneels down, holding them for me to step into, completely naked, it is not just sexy; it makes my chest squeeze.
Wanting him to feel the same, I find the shirt that he tossed and hold it up for him.
He bends down so I can slide it over his head, and he whispers something as he pushes his arms in that sounds a lot like, “Making me wanna put little Harts in you.”
I don’t reply. I don’t react. I have no idea if he actually said those words or if I’m riding a postorgasmic high or am feeling overly confident that I just gave a BJ that I wanted so badly to give and it ended in his loss of control. Bonus: his cum didn’t taste bad at all.
Once we’re both dressed, we slip out of the spare room and head to the kitchen.
“Elle’s all set.” Marks lifts his chin. “You’re kenneling her for the week?”
Before he can answer, I ask, “Your family is going with you?”
He nods. “Just found out they were. Hudson found a place—Cozy Canine Cottage.”
I squat down and pet her. “I’ve never heard of it.”
I glance up, and he’s looking down at me. His nostrils flare ever so slightly, making me wonder if he’s thinking of the BJ.
I shake my head to rid myself of that thought and focus on something more important. “Did they ask for her shot records?”
He runs his hand over his head. “I think so.”
I do a slow blink. “They didn’t?” I sigh then tell him, “She has to be sixteen weeks before she’s kenneled. She needs her kennel cough shot, and if they didn’t ask for her stool to be tested by her vet for all the different types of worms and other things, that means they’re not asking that of others, either.”
“Shit,” he grumbles.
“Between you, York, and me, we could keep an eye out.” Marks looks at me for an answer.
“So, she’ll be alone all day and night?” Rome asks, concerned.
“No,” I assure him. “She can stay here.”
“That’s a big ask,” he says.
“She’s a good pup.” Marks squats down, and she bounds over to him. “I might need to get myself one. This will be a good test.”
“Well, that’s settled.” I stand.
“You sure?”
“Positive,” I assure him.
“I can bring her things over in the morning?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“Seven?”
I look at the clock; it’s almost one. “Seven works.”
