Page 78 of Enticement
“Tomorrow,” Evie barked. “When you’re okay.”
Kit did eventually talk to Sammie, but not until the next day. If she gave him anymore details about her disappearance than she’d admitted to anyone else, Kit didn’t let on. When asked, he just smiled and said he was satisfied, and that he only wished she’d felt she could have trusted him better then. And no, actually, he wasn’t a dad; he made a point of informing Evie while Lillianna was also present, just to nip that particular rumour before it started. Lilli liked to be at the forefront of any gossip, but she also liked to be right.
The police came to speak to him too, but Kit refused to name potential suspects or press charges. He explained what had happened and left it at that, keen to put the past behind him. Flora’s legacy was a wreck, little more than a smouldering, blackened shell, but he asked as the officers left how soon he could start repairing it.
Chapter Eighteen
“Blinking hell! It’s like a funeral parlour in here.” Kit laughed at the abundance of cards, flowers and get well soon balloons taking up space in the living room. “Amazing what rescuing a cat does for one’s reputation.” He nudged one particularly garish offering of a black sequined heart and smiled at Lillianna’s “get well and smoochy” message inside.
Following Sammie’s brief reappearance, the villagers had rallied round, each more eager than the last to express their sympathies over Kit’s injures, and to dismiss any suggestion that they ever thought he had anything to do with Sammie’s disappearance. An assertion Evie had learned to accept with grace.
Not that any of that mattered now. Kit was finally home, and so was Mimmy. The little kitten had suffered a bad dose of smoke-inhalation during the fire, but she was now fully recovered, thanks to Ross’s partner at the veterinary practice, who had thoroughly cleaned her up and taken her home to nurse, since Ross and Evie had their hands full travelling back and forth to the hospital to visit Kit.
Evie left Ross aiding Kit to remove his coat, and padded through to the kitchen to shove a pizza in the oven. The current plan was for the three of them to curl up on the sofa and watch a movie together. Only, when she returned, the boys seemed to have forgotten their coats. Ross’s lay on the carpet, and Kit’s still had one arm in his jacket. Evie hung back in the doorway, watching, as her lover tenderly rained down kisses upon Kit’s upturned face. “Making up for lost time?” she asked.
Neither of them replied.
“Keep kissing me and you’re going to have your work cut out for you,” said Kit. With his hands still covered in swaddling bandages, he was neither in a position to push Ross away or draw him closer. “I’m not sitting up all night with a raging hard-on that I can do nothing about. It’s been bad in enough in hospital. I’ll come and slap you in the face with it until you wake up.”
“Promises, promises,” Ross scoffed. He finally helped pull Kit’s other arm free of his coat sleeve. “You know I’m feeling a little frisky in that regard myself.” Ross rolled his hips so that his loins pressed tightly to Kit’s abdomen, in response to which Kit gave an anguished groan.
“Evil,” he cursed.
“What did you say about Evie?” Ross glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of her standing in the doorway. “Coming to join us?”
She took a few steps forward, but still didn’t intrude. It was great to have Kit home again, but she wasn’t sure the three of them getting frisky quite so soon was such a good idea. Ross apparently thought otherwise.
“Damn, you’re hot like this, Kit. I love the fact that you can’t do a blooming thing. I can do whatever I like and you can’t stop me.”
“Who says I can’t?”
Evie laughed at the challenge in Kit’s voice. She was pretty certain he’d come out on top of this power play scenario, even taking into account his injuries. However… “Ross, he’s still—” She was going to say injured, but Kit cut her off.
“—just fine. I’m just fine,” he said, and the purr that escaped Ross’s throat as Kit’s mouth closed over one nipple attested to that fact. “Who says I need hands to get either of you off?”
“Kit. The doctor told you to take it easy.”
“Yeah, and he also told me that Margaret Thatcher was the best thing that ever happened to this country, and that he thinks he’s emo son is gay.”
Evie came and perched on the arm of the sofa beside them. “You should still—”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Take it easy. Work up to things gradually. I’ll not do a thing. I’ll just sit here. That okay?”
She nodded, but the moment she’d done so, Kit exchanged a secretive look with Ross, and the latter slipped off Kit’s lap and knelt between his spread thighs. “Ross, no!”
“Please,” murmured Kit, a plea she hadn’t the heart to argue with. “All rest and no play makes Kit a growly sourpuss.” He pouted.
Evie raised her hands in capitulation. Ross immediately dived on Kit’s belt, and helped him wriggle far enough out of his trousers and underwear that the fabric bunched around his knees. His erection swung free of the restriction, the head already ruddy and ripe for a touch. Ross wrapped a large hand around the base of Kit’s cock and applied tongue to the head.
Thirty seconds of watching his head bob was enough to crumble her resolve. Evie clambered onto the sofa beside Kit and lavished kisses upon him. God, she’d missed this, even in the few short days they’d been apart.
“Evie.” Kit nudged her away with his words. “I want to watch him. I want to watch you.” There was no need to ask for further clarification. Evie shuffled off the sofa again, and stood a little to the right of Ross so that Kit could see them both without the need for movement.
“Which bit of me do you want to see first?” She coyly pressed her palms together and touched her fingertips to her lips.
“Lose the denim. You know I hate the stuff.”
Evie looked at him from under her eyelashes as she tugged down her zip, then she turned around to shimmy out of her three-quarter length cut-offs. The lace of her panties skimmed across the surface of her buttocks, rising up as she bent, no doubt giving Kit an impressive vision of her curves. Ross, she noted, when she turned to face them again, had adjusted his position so that he could keep one eye on her too. He was also struggling one handed with the buckle of his belt.
