Page 26 of Not Mine to Rescue

“He’s so cute.”

Yeah, he was. Being one of the smaller owl varieties, he was barely bigger than my hand. His feathers were a mix of white, dark gray, and light tan. But he had big, expressive gold-toned eyes with little tufts of dark gray feathers in the upper corners of his darkly outlined lids, giving him natural guy liner.

“He’s also wild. I’ll take him back so Molly can relax.” No sooner than I said that, he shit on my arm. The whitewash soaked through my hoodie. “I’ll be back in a minute. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

When I returned and tossed my hoodie and flannel into the pile in front of the washer. Honoria had wandered through the house. A can of cola was in her hand and she had regained her color. I almost wanted to scare her again so she’d stay, but what would be the point? “Did you see the bedroom?”

Why in the hell did I lead with that. While I mentally kicked myself, Honoria answered.

“I didn’t know you played guitar.”

I didn’t. At least not very well, according to the more musically inclined people I knew. I should lie. Something held me back. “I started because I thought chicks would…”

“So, it’s just for show?”

I shrugged. “I can strum a bit, and maybe know a few chords, but nothing great.”

Honoria shook her head. “There goes my whole fantasy about rock musicians.” Her tone was light. I could hardly take offense.

I took a couple of steps closer. “What about reckless drivers?”

Her eyes narrowed. “They don’t affect me at all.”

Damn. That wound would never heal.

Then she took a step closer and picked at a few strands of Molly’s fur that had transferred from my coat to my T-shirt. “But ask me about men who love animals?”

My brain got a little too fixated on the “love” part. “What about ’em?”

“I like that quality.”

“What about animal lovers who can give you at least two orgasms?”

She snuck a glance at my face and paused. The hunger in her eyes mesmerized me. “Two. In a half-hour?”

“Guaranteed,” I growled.

Her mouth parted. “Let’s test that.”

If I spoke my mind, I was afraid my voice would crack like in some comedy sitcom. Instead, I opened my stance and indicated the bedroom with my hand. If she hesitated, I’d probably cry.

But she didn’t.

Instead, I got to watch her sweet ass sway seductively from one hip curve to the other as she strutted her high-heels in a direct line to my bed. At the edge, she turned. “Well?”

A half hour. That wasn’t nearly enough time. Not for what I wanted to do with her. But someone needed to make the second move. I stripped off my tee and dropped it wherever. My boots got toed off next. I made a point to stick my butt in the air so she could get a good look.

And since she was riveted, I took my sweet time unbuckling my belt. Once it was undone, I crossed the heavy end over my opposite wrist and slid it free.

Her mouth dropped open.

I grinned. All that practice paid off. I unbuttoned the top button of my jeans and let the zipper loosen on its own as I moved in for the kill.

Which was more of a slow hunt rather than anything quick. It certainly wasn’t deadly, just… hypnotic to circle each button of her shirt, slip it free, trail my fingertip down to the next, circle, slip, and when the buttons ran out, I repeated the pattern on her lace bra as Honoria loosened up piece by delectable piece.

When her dress pants hit the floor, I almost came in my jeans.

If the courts only knew what a crime those long legs were. Especially tempting was the lace of her matching panties. Those deserved my tongue. My fingers would only ruin it. I dropped to my knees in front of her and inhaled deeply.