AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She lets my flesh go, but then she’s right back to kissing me. I shove my hand into her hair and tip her head back farther. Little Tiger wants it rough? I can do that.
I sweep my tongue along the seam of her lips, giving her a single second to back away if she has any reservations.
Her fingers flex into my obliques, and I’m suddenly thankful for all those early morning workouts Alex ropes me into.
Spearing my tongue into the hot, wet cavern of her mouth, it’s an all-out assault to the senses. Her warm breath puffs against my cheek. Then her tongue meets mine like she’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have.
I tug her hips forward, leaving nothing to the imagination. There’s a tiny gasp, and I swallow the sound. Yes, Princess, feel what you do to me.
She’s amazing. Giving kiss for kiss. Clinging to me like a koala bear. Moaning her pleasure.
I lift my head. Her eyes are closed, her lips slightly parted. I’ve never really thought much about the word bemused, but I’m positive if you looked it up in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of Katherine right now.
Then she blinks up at me.
I hold my breath.
She’s impossible to read on the best day, and I’ve just kissed the hell out of her. If she were wearing socks, they’d be scattered around the room. With our coffee.
But this Katherine lifts a fingertip to her lips. There’s the slightest curve at the corners. Then her gaze drops to my chest, and I swear her nostrils flare.
“Sorry about that,” she murmurs, waving a hand at my shirt.
I glance down to find a coffee stain.
“You can pay the dry cleaning bill.”
She smiles then. Full on summer’s day sunshine smile. And it’s so fucking sweet I almost come.
“I should clean this up.” She nods toward the chaos around our feet.
That strikes me as funny, and fuck, I shouldn’t laugh. But I do.
“What? You think I don’t know how to use a sponge?”
“It’s not that, Princess.”
She pokes me in the abs.
God. How is it that the hottest kiss of my life has turned into such a lighthearted moment that I can’t get enough of? It’s wild and unexpected.
Just like her.
I sober.
“What?” She gives me a look that I’m sure gets her what she wants nine out of ten times. “Say it.”
“This. You.” I drop my head, huffing a laugh. “It’s just. . . domestic.”
She cocks her head, suddenly suspicious, and I feel her withdrawing. “You don’t like domestic?”
“Yesterday, I would have said no way.”
“And today?”
I glance down at the puddles of coffee on the hardwood floor. Her latte has seeped into my soul-black coffee, creating a marbled effect in places. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Whatever the case, a new, medium-brown liquid emerges from the mess.
Is that what life would be like with her?
