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Kitty’s hands drop to my belt. “We should—” Her words are cut short when she screams and bars an arm across her chest. Her eyes are wide and her cheeks are flushed pink. “Oh my God!” She brings the other hand up to cover her eyes.
I look down at myself, wondering if I’m the problem, but all I see are my own nipples and my semi-abs and my hard-on pressing excitedly against my fly. I glance over my shoulder and shout profanity.
Sitting on the back of the couch, directly over my left shoulder, is Prince Francis. And he’s glaring at us like he’s been possessed by some demon.
“What the hell, buddy? Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare?”
His eyes flick over to me and then back to Kitty. He puts a paw on my shoulder and tries to bite my ear.
I bat him away, but instead of leaping off the couch, he drops to the cushion beside me, extends a leg, and starts licking his parts.
“Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?” I suggest.
Kitty makes the Vulcan sign with her fingers and peeks between the space. “That would probably be a good plan.”
My childhood bedroom is not the most ideal location for hot sex; however, my mother’s couch with a cat staring at us or alternately licking his own balls is less ideal. I grab my shirt and drape it over Kitty’s shoulders, putting a hand on her waist to steady her as she shimmies off my lap. I push to a stand in the narrow space between the couch and the coffee table. My hard-on bumps into her stomach through my pants.
Kitty looks down and it’s as if her hand has a magnet attached to it, because it rises and cups me. I groan and she hums. Prince Francis’s head appears beside my leg.
“Okay. This is getting creepy, let’s go.” I grab her hand—the one currently cupping my junk—and pull her toward the stairs.
We rush up them, Prince Francis trotting along behind us, and I push her into my bedroom and follow her inside. Prince Francis tries to slip in the narrow gap, but I snatch him up. “Sorry, buddy, this is for adults only. No cats allowed.” I toss him back out into the hall. He lands on the floor with a soft thud. I close the door and turn around. “Now where were we?”
Kitty lets my shirt fall to the floor. “I was about to take your pants off.”
chapter eighteen
SEXY TIMES
Kitty
Miles crosses the room and takes my face in his hands. He slants his mouth over mine in a searing kiss I feel from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head. I clutch his shoulders and lean into him, the prominent bulge behind his fly pressing against my stomach. It’s like there’s a magnetic force at work, drawing our bottom halves toward each other.
I allow my hands to drift down his arms, squeezing his biceps on the way. When I reach his waist, I skim along his beltline. It takes real willpower to make room between our business parts, but the only way to get to the goods is to get him out of his pants.
I flick open the clasp of his belt, then pop the button and drag down his zipper. Miles groans when I slip a finger inside his boxer shorts.
His hands are still cupping my face. He backs up enough that his face is no longer blurry. “Should we move to the bed?”
“We could get each other naked first?” It’s sort of a question. “Unless you think it would be better to get naked after we’re on the bed.”
“All the way naked?” he asks.
“That’s usually the best way to be if we’re going to have sex. Unless that’s not the plan?” I wish I could stop my mouth from saying things that could embarrass me, especially at times like this. “It doesn’t have to be the plan. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. Or moving too fast.”
“You’re not. Moving too fast. I just . . . didn’t want to make assumptions, because you know how that goes. It makes an ass out of you and me. I’m more than happy to get totally naked with you, right here or on the bed. Either way. I’m in.” Miles pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and tosses it across the room. It lands on the comforter with a soft thud. “We’ll need that, though.”
“Good call.” I push his pants over his hips, and they slide down his legs, pooling at his feet. Miles bends to get them off the rest of the way and removes his socks as well, which I appreciate because socks and sex aren’t a great combination.
While he hops around on one foot, trying to free his left leg of his pants and lose his other sock, I shuck my pants and take off my socks too. And then we’re both in our underwear. Miles’s has a team print on them. Mine match the bra that’s still on the floor in the living room. I don’t know what possessed me to wear a sexy bra and underwear set today, but when I woke up this morning, I bypassed all my cotton comfort and went straight for my good stuff.
