“You’re a hero.”
“A damn martyr.”
“Mm. Very brave.”
His eyes darken at that, and the teasing between us changes shape. “You know what I thought about all night?”
“The structural integrity of inflatable costumes?”
His gaze drags down my body again, lingering at my feet. “Those heels.”
My breath catches, even though I knew. Of course I knew. I felt him watching all night. Felt the weight of it every time I crossed my legs at the bar, every time I stood on my toes to kiss his cheek, every time the hem of my dress rode a little higher and his jaw shifted.
“These old things?” I kick a leg up behind me, aware of the way my very short dress just got even shorter. “I should take ‘em off.”
“Leave them on.”
I stare at him, and Evan’s eyes gleam.
A breathy laugh slips out of me. “You’re very committed to the theme.”
“I’m very committed toyou.”
The words are gentler than the heat in his eyes, but that’s Evan all over. Filthy and tender in the same breath. My ridiculously grumpy man with a nickel in his wallet and my pebble on his nightstand, who still kisses the faint scars on my wrists.
I step into him. Or as close as I can get, given the penguin situation. His hands find my waist immediately, sliding over the tight fabric of my dress before settling at the small of my back. He pulls me toward him, and I rise easily on the heels, meeting his mouth halfway.
The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way. It never does. His demanding mouth opens over mine and I sink into the familiar heat of him with a soft sound. His hands tighten atmy waist, then slide lower, gripping me through the dress as he walks me backward toward the bedroom.
I laugh against his mouth when my heel catches slightly on the hallway rug.
“Careful,” he murmurs.
“You worried I’ll lose a shoe?”
“No.” His mouth brushes my jaw, then the side of my neck, before his dark eyes fix on mine. “I’d find it.”
The words shouldn’t undo me the way they do, but they do. Because he would. He has. He always will.
I slide my fingers into his hair, and his expression softens for half a second before the heat returns. “Bedroom.”
“Yes, sir.”
His brow lifts. “You trying to kill me tonight, Lucky Penny?”
“I’m a penguin,” I whisper against his mouth. “We mate for life.”
“Fuck.”
By the time we reach the bedroom door, Evan has managed to shove the costume down around his hips, which means my very serious, very competent firefighter boyfriend is now half shirtless, half penguin, and fully ruining me.
I lean back against the doorframe and drag my eyes down him.
“You know,” I begin, “this might be the weirdest foreplay we’ve ever had.”
“Top three,” he says, kicking his way out of the costume at last.
It collapses on the floor with a sad little wheeze, and we both look at it, then at each other.
