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The truth is always stranger than fiction.
Take, for example, my cherry-pie-craving, number-one-in-a-league-of-her-own hacker of a granny and the station wagon sitting just outside, waiting for me as I get my ass into pants.
#mylifeissomuchstrangerthanfiction.
CHAPTER 11
Cass
“Okay, this is kind of strange, isn’t it?”
I’m currently blindfolded and being led into Ayana’s house. Lennox picked me up in his new car—a station wagon that he said someone sold to him at the shop. It looked just like the car my parents had when I was a kid, and man, did I love that car. I never pictured Lennox as the kind to drive a shaggin’ wagon—okay, seriously, I have never used that term before, and it just sounds funny to me.
“I have a surprise waiting in there for you. I don’t want to wreck it.”
“Oh boy. Did you frame the couch where we, uh…yeah. Last time. You know? When we were supposed to be babysitting? Or did you cast it in gold?”
Lennox chuckles. He’s not slow to laugh, but lately, I’ve realized it’s probably not so much a forced thing as it is a rehearsed thing that he does to fit in and feel normal. I use humor like a shield. I can’t stop hearing him say that. But this laughter? It sounds totally real, and not only does it make my nipples shiver and my skin burst into happy goosebumps, but it also makes my lady bits burst into spontaneous happiness too.
It’s only been a few days since the whole get-me-on-the-table-and-eat-me-like-I’m-dinner incident, but even if it had been a literal lifetime between now and then, there isn’t a single chance in any hell that I would forget it.
“That’s a great idea. I would have to explain to Ransom why I like the couch so much, though.”
“You could just tell him that you really love it and want to buy it from him.”
Lennox’s hand tightens around mine as he leads me in. “Nah, he would never believe it. He’d want to know exactly what I did to it when he wasn’t around. He knows me too well.”
“It was actually me. You were innocent in the matter.”
“That’s not quite the way I remember it going down.” Lennox’s voice is thick and smoky right near my ear. I nearly jump out of my skin, and my hoo-ha and nipples jump into the I’m so freaking ready for you to talk dirty to me again mode.
I love his deep timbre. His voice threads its way through me like a beam of sunlight cutting through a cloudy sky. Those rich golden beams illuminate all the parts of me that have been ill to little used for so very long that they’re practically covered in cobwebs. So. Many. Cobwebs.
“Watch your step,” he says suddenly.
I don’t have to worry about tripping and falling when he’s on watch. His huge arms wrap around me, one sliding behind my waist and the other bracketing my shoulders as he steps behind me to guide me, all without letting go of my hand. The proximity of his body next to mine makes mine undergo an inner tornado. My stomach turns in a series of loops and twists, and my heart slams out a rhythm that would put the best bongo drummer to shame.
I can feel the temperature change from hot and humid to cool and air-conditioned as soon as I step through the doorway. “The cloak and dagger would be utterly thrilling if we were stepping into your house,” I whisper into Lennox’s ear.
Or what I hope is his ear. I might be talking to his foot. Or his rear. Or something else. Isn’t that just thrilling? My nipples haven’t gotten the memo that there are other people present, and when other people are present, they are supposed to be on their best behavior.
They’re on their best behavior, alright—their best needy behavior because Lennox is still holding my hand, and the heat of his body is mingling with mine. I can smell his scent, which is becoming more and more familiar, to the point where I could probably pick it out in a room of overly-scented people. Not that he’s overly scented. He’s perfectly scented, but if someone tried to fool me, my nose would get its olfactory senses on, and I’m sure it could pick Lennox out.
Okay, so that’s not the only reason I’m still practically panting here. He’s pressed up against my bottom, every hard inch of him, and by that, I mean every hard inch of him. The whole are-you-packing-a-salami-in-your-pants thing kind of applies right now.
I’m serious.
Then, I hear someone cough, another creak of the couch, Ayana’s laugh, which sounds a little bit nervous, and a higher cackle. Nope, I’ll never forget that cackle. I know perfectly well who that cackle belongs to.
My hand shoots to the blindfold before Lennox tells me I can take it off. I pause there, but then I feel his fingers cover mine. My hand slides away, and he takes over. I’ve never had someone blindfold me and then take it off, obviously. It’s more than quite thrilling, to be honest.
