Page 100 of Moonshine Kiss
Bowie
Something hot and furry was sitting on my chest. And something sharp was poking me in the face. I opened a bleary eye to find a yellowish one staring back at me. It was early. Very early. I didn’t have to be at school for another two hours.
“Meow?” the fat tub of cat said, again bringing his paw to my face.
When I didn’t immediately respond to whatever he was asking, the fucker stabbed me in the face with a pawful of nails.
I asked you nicely, fucker,his grumpy face seemed to say.
“Ouch!”
“Mmm, George. No stabbing.” Cassidy was curled up against my side, her back to me. She was naked and not entirely awake.
Yep. Cassidy Ann Tucker was in bed with me. Today was officially the best day of my entire life.
George celebrated with me with another stab to my face.
“Ouch! Ooof!” The breath was pushed out of me when another warm, furry bulk landed on my stomach. Sir Edmund Hillary had decided to throw his hat into the ring for most annoying wake-up ever.
He peered over his brother, looking quizzically at me.
“They’re not used to two bodies in bed,” Cassidy yawned, wiggling her backside up against me. I dumped both cats on to the mattress and rolled onto my side, spooning her.
“They better get used to it,” I told her, burying my face in her hair.
I was hard. Throbbingly hard. My body was busy remembering all of the sensations from last night and insistent in its desire to re-enact every single one.
Cassidy gave out a sweet little sigh and cuddled back into me. I couldn’t think of a better way to start my day.
“Was it my imagination or did you tell me you loved me about eight times last night?” I asked, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck.
“Definitely your imagination.”
I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Was it my imagination or did you say we weren’t going to have sex last night?”
I bit her on the shoulder. “Definitely your imagination.”
Eight sets of claws sank into my hip and shoulder as two cats scrambled to perch like freaking parrots on the highest points of my body.
“Son of a—”
“They want breakfast,” Cassidy said, burying her face in her pillow.
The fat one was poking me in the face again.
“Fine. You win, feral furballs,” I muttered. I tried to roll carefully so as not to startle them, but it was to no avail. They knew breakfast was on the line here. George dug his back claws into me and slid down my bicep. Eddie followed suit by clinging to my flesh through the sheet until he rolled off of me.
They tried to kill me on the stairs.
George stopped short in front of me while Eddie snaked his way through my legs. While I grabbed the handrail and missed four or five steps, they resumed their race to the kitchen.
“You okay?” Cassidy called out sleepily.
“Peachy,” I called back. Two murderous felines were not going to ruin the best day of my life.
I checked my phone and found a text from Jonah.Oops.
