Page 115 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

Instead of replying, I reach up to grip his jacket, tugging him down into a kiss. It’s sweet, at first, before I urge him to deepen it.

He takes me up on the offer almost immediately. Within seconds, his knee is pressed between my thighs, and I’m pressed hard to the wall and panting into his open mouth as he drinks in the soft sounds I can’t help making while he nips and teases at my lips.

“Cass…” I murmur, trying to catch my breath as the words in my brain burn on my lips. “I think I⁠—”

A wolf whistle cuts me off, and both of us jerk around to see two men coming from the direction of the bar, both of them obviously drunk and grinning. “You two puttin’ on a show?” one of them crows, kicking at the gravel under his feet. “Or is this an open invitation?”

His cohort cackles and lifts his hand, spreading two fingers to make an obscene gesture with his tongue toward me.

Cass snorts under his breath and I grip his jacket harder, giving him a baleful look. “They are so not worth the jail time,” I tell him flatly. “Don’t even start.”

“I’m not, I’m not.” But he does smile mockingly and return their sentiments with a rude gesture of his own. “Fuck off,” he tells them too-sweetly. “Go walk in front of a semi or something, would you? I’m sure you’d be doing the world a favor.”

The two men cackle at his insults, confirming my suspicion that they’re too drunk out of their minds to know what’s really going on. Then a group of girls catches their attention and they turn, forgetting about us as they stumble after the women who look like they’d eat these men for breakfast.

“It’s getting late,” I inform Cass with a grin. “I’m going to be in trouble if I’m home after curfew.”

Cass huffs out a laugh and kisses the tip of my nose. “Sure, babe,” he agrees with a chuckle. “I’ll get you home before you turn into a pumpkin at midnight, I promise. I won’t even speed.”

“Good.” I drag him back toward his car. “Because from what I hear, there’s a cop near my house who’d just love the chance to pull you over.”

23

Somehow, we make it to my house without getting stopped by any overzealous police officers with weird fixations on my boyfriend. He parks behind my car, and I slide out of the passenger seat and stretch up on my toes, back arched as I snap the kinks out of it.

“I hate my job,” I complain, though there’s not a lot of truth in the words. Compared to babysitting, it’s really not that bad at all.

“Quit,” Cass comments, walking behind me up to the porch and waiting for me to open the door. Though when his hands find my hips, I realize he’s not as patient as he’d like to appear.

So I slow down. I move as slow as a snail as I undo the lock once, then again, as if it’s stuck or just not cooperating.

Cassian sees through it instantly and leans forward, lips brushing my ear. “Open the fucking door, Winnifred Campbell,” he murmurs in my ear. “Or I swear to God, I’ll fuck you on this porch and your neighbors are going to get really upset when you wake them up with your howling.”

The sentiment makes me cackle, and in the next moment Cass’s hands are replacing mine to push open the door far enough for him to shove me inside.

“You’re such a brat,” he growls, and hooks an arm around my hips to yank me around to face him. “Such a big house.” His lips curl into a grin. “Makes me think of all the places I could ruin you.”

“It’s mom’s house.” I don’t know why I say it, I don’t know why it matters. But something like understanding crosses Cass’s face, and his grip becomes comforting, rather than demanding and urgent.

“I could always take you back to my apartment.” But we both know neither of us wants to wait that long. Even as he says it, he’s pulling me up the stairs by my arm, heading down the hallway toward my room.

“One of these times I’ll set up camp there and never leave.” I flash him a threatening grin, which he returns, then quickly pins me against the railing near the staircase.

“Don’t make promises I’ll have you keep.” He nips at my lower lip lightly, teasingly, making my breath catch in my throat.

I don’t falter, exactly. But the idea of making good on my words, of living with Cass, is strange. New. Different.

Good.

Shifting slightly, I lick at his mouth. “I’d kill your plants.” I sigh. “And do you even like cats? Because Doom and Gloom certainly aren’t staying here.”

“What?” Cass jerks back, giving me a quizzical, reproachful look. “Winnie, I wouldn’t let you leave your cats here. And I’ll put caution tape around the plants so you can’t wilt them with your anti-green thumb. You know there’s only one bedroom, though…” He wiggles his brows theatrically, and I reach out to tug at his shirt, intending to strip him out of his clothes before he can do it to me first.

“Is this you offering to take the couch? Wow, Cass, you’re just so—” My words become a startled yelp as he picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder just like he had at the slaughterhouse. “I believe I requested bridal style!”

“I believe you’re a brat.” He shoves a door open, and with a jolt of surprise I realize we’re in my bathroom, not my bedroom. “And brats don’t get a choice on how they’re carried.” In a smooth movement, he sets me down on the counter beside the sink, making me thankful that the housekeeper keeps this bathroom guest ready for absolutely no reason at all.

“That’s rude—Hey!” I grab his hands when he moves to take off my shirt, though I quickly move to yank at his instead. “No. No! This time you get naked.”