“Whatever.” I grab up my bag. “Ready?”
He’s still fighting back a smile. “Sure, babe.”
When I turn to get my keys from the side table, something happens, but I’m not sure what. Rustling and muted movements.
Suspicious, I glance among all three of them. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Mira asks, all innocent.
“Someone threw something,” I say. “Someone hid something.”
She bats her lashes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Narrowing my glare on Onyx, I demand, “Did you throw her something?”
Lips twitching, he starts making backward steps. “Pia, c’mon.”
I advance. “Whatdid you give her?”
Something rustles behind me, but when I whirl around again, Mira and Kim are both sitting prettily on the couch.
They’re screwing with me. All three of them. That’s what’s happening here.
I spin back around to Onyx, ready to lay into him, but before I can, he hauls me up against him and kisses me stupid. By the time he’s vacuumed all the air from my lungs, I’ve forgotten all the words.All the words.
“Whoa,” I whisper, breathless.
“Ready?” he asks, his grin so damn wide and proud.
“Uh-huh,” I hum, dazed.
“Holy shit,” Mira mumbles. “A human who knows how to tame the wild beast? Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Shut up, Mira,” I damn near sing. “Just…um, remember to lock up before you leave.”
As we turn to go, I’m sure I glimpse Mira and Kim throw double thumbs up at Onyx, but I’m too heady to care anymore.
Mira is right: This man knows exactly how to tame me.
And once again, Onyx for the win.
~
We make it back to Castle Pines and barely have time to slide in a quickie before it’s dinnertime with the Michaelson's.
Their cavernous dining room is the richest place I’ve ever eaten in. And damn if Leyana isn’t an impressive cook. Girl sure knows how to throw down in the kitchen.
Stuffed to the point of being uncomfortable, I sit back in an armchair and sulk inwardly while sipping white wine.
Across the open space to the living area, Leyana is seated on a red velvet chaise with her legs apart, and Onyx is on the floor between them, giving her the perfect angle for styling his hair.
I don’t like it. But when I glance to her big, intimidating, muscled-bound husband, who’s caught up in an MMA fighting match on their massive flat screen television, then to the twins who’re playing twister on another side of the room, I realize this is a normal, regular thing for them. No big deal.
For me, though, it is. Him between her legs, her hands in his hair, him looking all comfortable and relaxed… Nope, Ido notlike it.
Maybe if she wasn’t so aesthetically perfect, rich, and cloyingly kind, it wouldn’t bother me. But she’s the kind of woman that men either crush hard on, marry, or duel for. Damn right I feel threatened. What if he’s carrying a torch for her? Not that there’s been any indication he’s even remotely interested in her, but it’s still a thought.
With a quiet grunt, I polish off my wine and all but stomp into the kitchen to pour myself another glass.