Page 27

I’m currently digging out clothes to loan my ex’s brother and contemplating ways to ask him to never leave me.

Yeah. Totally normal behavior.

I’m fundamentally incompatible with keeping things casual, I fear.

Flinn has to borrow yet more of my clothes—not that I’m complaining—since the only thing he has with him is that sexy-as-hell suit he arrived in. After being all cowboy god with a chainsaw today, and after the best sex of my life, the least I could do was offer him a shower and some clean clothes to wear.

And of course, because he’s built like a superhero, everything is kinda tight on him and just makes those muscles I’m not supposed to be drooling over even more prominent.

He walks out of the bathroom, emerging from a cloud of steam wrapped only in a towel slung low on his hips, and I’m trying really fucking hard to be decent and to keep my hands to myself. Seeing him like this? Flinn makes it damn near impossible not to jump his bones again immediately.

I want to rip that towel off him, suck his cock until he’s bricked up, eat his tight little hole, and then fuck like we never need to come up for air.

“What’s that look for?” He reaches for the side table and slides his glasses onto his face. Nothing but pecs, chest hair, a towel, and slutty little frames highlighting his perfect cheekbones? Is he trying to kill me?

Those glasses should be illegal.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? He’s so hot with them. Fuck my life.

I cough and hand over the sweats and hoodie. “Nothing.” It’s barely a croak. This cowboy has rendered me speechless more than once, and it’s churning me up.

Now, seeing him in my clothes again? Goddamn, that is definitely doing something for me. His sister would never. She always wore her own stuff, would turn her nose up like mine weren’t good enough. I don’t know why it sent such a pang straight to my chest, all because of something entirely silly and meaningless, but my romantic heart would shrivel a little.

Is it a crime to want to see the person you’re into curled up on the couch, wearing your hoodie?

Hooking my thumb over one shoulder, I make a hasty exit before I tackle him to the bed and indulge all my depraved fantasies. Fucking Flinn while he’s wearing my clothes? Peeling those sweats down and licking every inch of him from rim to taint to tip? Fisting a T-shirt of mine against the small of his back while I drive into him from behind and listen to him moan into the pillow?

Well, there’s no limit to just how badly I want this guy, it would seem.

“I’ll make sure that fire is heating up properly.” Muttering to myself and cursing my luck that of course it’s him I’m already pining over and he hasn’t even left yet, I fuss around, stacking up more wood inside and poking at the flames while he gets dressed.

“Uhh, what’s the deal with your cat?” His voice sounds a little raspy as he walks into the kitchen.

“I don’t have a cat,” I say on reflex. But my head whips up, and of course, Lily is perched on the window ledge outside, eyeing up my houseguest as if she has a fortune teller’s insight into all my sins. “There you are, baby girl.” I cross over and pop the window open enough that she can slink through. A little chirrrp of greeting is followed by a shake of her ginger fur to flick off the dusting of snow she accumulated on her way over.

“She’s been out there in the snow this whole time?” Flinn’s brows zip together.

Lily pads straight across the counter and firmly bunts her cheek against his hand with a very ungraceful headbutt. Her only setting is to force affection upon people.

We have way too much in common.

“She’s not mine, but turns up pretty much every day. So I let her stay whenever she wants,” I say, offering a shrug.

Flinn scratches behind her ears, and the ginger hussy starts purring loudly. Am I a little jealous of a cat getting to enjoy having his hands running all over her fur, stroking absently? I discreetly readjust myself.

“Are you gonna take her with you?” He raises one eyebrow at me, then at the boxes I’ve got stacked ready to go.

“Nah. I don’t want to take her away if her actual owners are somewhere nearby.” With a heavy swallow, I rest my ass against the table, shove one hand in my pocket, and rub the other back and forth over my nape.

“You have more cat food here than human food,” he scoffs. “Are you sure you aren’t her owner and you didn’t realize it?”

“I dunno, man. Lily just comes and goes whenever she wants. She’s well looked after by someone.” As I say the words, she lets out another little chirp and hops down, then comes over to forcefully throw herself against my legs, weaving around my ankles. For a tiny thing, she’s like a fifty-pound weight when she wants to be.

Reaching down, I scoop her up, and she curls into the crook of my elbow.

“Yeah. Someone. It’s a total mystery who that could be.” Flinn rolls his eyes, then starts moving around my kitchen as if he damn well owns the place. I like it. I like it way too much, and I have to ignore just how incredible he looks standing only a few feet away.

Because this is all going to be over as soon as that road is passable.