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“With all the wealth here?” Aithan said. “No doubt.” He took the towel from me and dried his hands then hung it on the oven handle.
Drew sat on the counter and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Search engine finds everything,” he muttered and tapped away then held it up. “Three on the first try. Here’s a personal stylist with fourteen positive reviews. That’s pretty good, means she’s got an actual client base.”
I leaned against the counter and peered at his phone, trying to get a good view. Aithan caught my waist and hoisted me onto the counter. “Hey, no lifting,” I said. “Remember?”
He sucked a deep breath then shrugged. “No pain tonight.”
“And tomorrow?” I asked.
“Is something I’m not worrying about tonight.” He kissed my nose.
Drew showed me the website of the stylist who’d caught his eye. “This is promising. She specializes in hard-to-fit figures.”
“Like a Valkyrie?” Aithan asked.
Drew smirked. “Ha! Lorelei Fitzsimmons. Totally Fitz with a Z. I get it.”
I laughed. “You’re so easily amused.”
“Yeah.” He scanned the site. “Did you tell her your good news?” he asked Aithan without looking up.
I draped my hands around Aithan’s neck. “What good news?”
He stood between my legs, his hands resting on my thighs. A slow smile curved his lips. “My jibblies got a clean bill of health today.”
“Ooo.” I matched his smile. “We should celebrate.”
“Yeah, we should.” He pulled me to the edge of the counter and his lips found mine in a slow, deep kiss.
“I have something special in mind,” I murmured against his mouth.
“Really?”
“Mm-hmm. A present for having to wait so long.”
“Take it to the bedroom,” Drew said. “I’m trying to read here.”
“You joining us soon?” I leaned over and ran my tongue along the edge of his ear.
He shuddered and turned his head to kiss me. “Fuck yeah, I’ll be there.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. It was probably Mom with questions about Thanksgiving, and I had more pressing matters to address than debating the merits of homemade versus canned cranberry sauce.
Aithan started to lift me off the counter, but I pushed him back. “No, you’re not carrying me, Mr. Mazur. I want your lungs ready for some deep breathing exercises upstairs.”
“’Cause she’s about to blow your mind,” Drew added.
I hopped down, grabbed Aithan’s hand, and pulled him toward the stairs.
“Whatever you say, beautiful.” He followed, a shit-eating grin plastered to his face.
8
MAGIC MOUTH
As we enteredthe master bedroom, Aithan stopped and pulled me around. He shoved his hands into my hair and kissed me hard. His tongue stroked my lower lip, then plunged into my mouth, twining with mine. I matched his ferocity, sighing as one of his hands drifted down to cup my ass. He pulled our bodies together, pressing his erection against me.
Taller than me by six inches, Aithan’s height was a damn nice change from most guys who matched my five-eleven. His broad shoulders and wide, muscular back narrowed to six-pack abs and a deep V. The man’s muscles were chiseled from marble, and I could not get enough of their hills and valleys.
