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He found her in the actual laundry room, of all places.
When he stepped inside, she whirled around, her expression flipping through an intriguing catalog from surprise, to dismay, to desire, to defiant anger in a matter of seconds.
“You,” she said through clenched teeth, “are shameless.”
That fire in her. He itched to stoke it some more.
“Oh?” His voice was mild, in stark contrast to the sizzling need in him. “How so?”
“You know exactly what I mean.” She almost growled. He wanted to feel that sound on his skin.
“?’Fraid I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“The peach,” she hissed.
He couldn’t help it. He laughed. She looked so adorably pissed off, so helplessly hot and bothered. It probably went contrary to his plan to make her come to him for another round of mindless sex, but he couldn’t stop pushing her buttons.
Ducking the wet towel she flung at his head, he grinned at her. “It’s not like you didn’t get your revenge, though, is it?”
“What are you talking about?” She grabbed the next wet towel.
He pushed the door to the room closed with one hand while not letting her out of his sight. “You hexed me.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I did no such thing.”
“You’re a bad liar.” He prowled a step closer to her.
She casually backed up a little, her face all haughty innocence. “And what makes you think you’re jinxed?”
He smirked, tilted his head, and looked at her from underneath his lashes. Waiting a beat, he then said with targeted sensuality, “I want to meow you.”
Hazel made a strangled sound, her lips pressed together.
He took a measured step closer, all predatory precision and intent. “I want to lick your meow until you writhe under my mouth and beg for my meow.”
Hazel’s shoulders shook. The corners of her mouth—lips still tightly pressed together—twitched upward. She waved a hand in front of her face as if to ward him off, her eyes glistening. “Stop it,” she whispered.
He prowled closer still, with Hazel backing up until her back hit the washer. Feral amusement warred with growing hunger inside him as he felt her body heat brush his skin.
“And then I’ll meow you,” he murmured into the space between them, “long and hard, until you come on my meow, and we’ll both be spent as meow and can’t remember our meowing names.”
“Oh, gods.” Hazel burst out laughing, and the sound was like a rush of bliss right through him.
He’d never heard her laugh like this before. And never with him. The sight of her face, so open and warm and entirely given over to mirth, the gleam in her eyes, it did something to a tender, neglected part of him.
A wide grin on his face, he watched for a moment how she succumbed to giggles, holding her stomach and catching her breath.
And then he kissed the laughter right from her lips.
* * *
The heat of Tallak’s lips on hers turned her laughter into a gasp. The contact sent a zing of pleasure all the way down to the juncture of her legs, to the spot where barely banked desire flared to life once more.
All her objections, all her doubts, they fizzled out like pitiful flames underneath a torrent of rain. The taste of Tallak flooded her senses, the feel of him washing away whatever reservations she’d had about giving in to her need for him.
She dropped the wet towel, her hands coming up to his chest. Not to push him away, no. To dig her fingers into his pectorals. His muscles flexed in response, and he deepened the kiss. Leaning more into her, he stroked his tongue along hers, tasted her like she was the finest delicacy. She made a soft sound of pleasure and pressed against him.
One hand on her nape, the other on her hip, he pushed her back against the washer while he plundered her mouth with sensual aggression. With a groan, she lifted one leg to wrap around his hips, the fabric of her skirt hiking up. He didn’t miss a beat and grabbed her underneath her other thigh to lift her up onto the edge of the washer, pushing the delicious hardness of his crotch against her pulsing core as he did so.
