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"My rules, my way, remember?" I run my thumb down the side of her cheek. "You agreed when you agreed to that."
"I didn't agree to that! You distracted me until I forgot to argue."
"Oh, I like him," Bets whispers to Gran, linking her arm through her sister's. "He's a smart one."
"Stop siding with the enemy, Bets. You're supposed to be on my team."
"Emmaline, dear girl, if being on your team means this gorgeous man isn't moving in, no one wants to be on your team," Bets says frankly, patting her niece on the head. "But you two keep arguing about it. Lou and I will get dinner started."
Chapter Seven
Zayne
"Iamsomadat you," Emma hisses as soon as Gran and Bets exit the room. "You told them you're moving in."
"I am moving in."
"I didn't agree to this."
"You did. You just don't remember doing it," I lie, reaching for her. She tries to evade me by dodging to the left, but I manage to get my hands on her anyway.
She huffs as I haul her into my arms, effectively trapping her up against my body.
"You're sexy as hell when you're pissed, lamb."
"Stop flirting with me, Zayne. I'm trying to be annoyed with you."
"Yeah? How's that working out for you?" I ask, undoing the twist holding her hair up on her head. The thick mass goes tumbling down her back. I immediately plunge my hands into it, my dick pulsing. Fucking hell, even her hair is soft.
"It was easier when I was over there," she mutters, making me chuckle.
"I can move us over there if you think it'll help."
She turns that adorable scowl up at me. And that's about all I can take. I've been trying to get my hands on this woman for a fucking month, driving myself crazy thinking about what I'd do once I had her in my arms. Now she's here, and I'm not wasting another damn second.
I swoop, claiming her mouth before she even has a chance to resist me. To my surprise, she doesn't even try. She whimpers, the sound shooting straight to my cock. Her hands get tangled in my hair as she tries to pull me closer.
I lick into her mouth, attacking it like I would her pussy. Fucking hell. She tastes like magic. Her taste hits my system, annihilating any chance I had of surviving this if she kicks my ass to the curb. Did I even stand a chance of surviving it anyway?
No.
I think I knew on day one that she was it for me. It's why I've been fighting so hard to get her on the same page. I'm a simple man with simple needs. And I knew five minutes after meeting her that I needed her in my life.
That sense of certainty has only grown in the last month.
She's vital to me now, ranking above everything else on Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. If we require a purpose, she's mine. If life needs meaning, it's her.
"Jesus, lamb," I rasp, breaking from her lips only to come back to them again and again. I can't stop kissing her now that I've started. She certainly isn't telling me no. It's a far cry from the last month. Her surrender is the sweetest victory I've ever tasted.
"You have to stop kissing me," she mumbles, biting my bottom lip. "You're going to get us caught again."
I solve that problem lickety-split. I walk her backward toward the narrow hallway on the opposite side of the living room. Somehow, I manage to avoid the antique coffee table and the pile of yarn spilling from a basket beside the sofa.
Gran and Bets chatter away in the kitchen, happily banging pots and pans as they bicker over who makes the best garlic bread. Confident they'll be occupied for at least the next few minutes, I drag Emma into the first room I come across, slamming the door behind us.
I catch a brief flash of a gray and yellow shower curtain and matching rug before the small bathroom is plunged into complete darkness.
"Now, we won't get caught," I growl, fumbling for the lock on the door just to cover all my bases.
