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"Um, did you miss the giant flame that just singed your eyebrows off?"
He immediately reaches up to check his eyebrows and then growls at me when he realizes they're both still fully intact. He abandons the grill, stalking across the back deck toward me. The wood vibrates beneath his heavy steps.
"What are you doing?" I ask, breathless at the intense gleam in his eyes.
"Coming to kiss that fucking smile off your face."
"Cormac," I whisper.
"Say my name like that again, and our guests are going to see some things they definitely aren't going to survive seeing, Mischief," he growls. His gaze prowls down my body. "You fell asleep on the couch last night. I didn't get to kiss Snoopy goodnight."
Oh. Wow. It's entirely possible to orgasm without being touched.
"Cormac."
He snarls, lunging for me. Somehow, I end up in his arms with my legs around his waist and my back against the wall. His gray eyes bore into mine, his upper lip curled back from his teeth. His breath comes in harsh pants.
"You laugh, and the fucking angels sing, Mischief."
"Shut up and kiss me, Tiny."
"Nah. You kiss me this time."
I spear my hands into his hair, eagerly dragging his mouth down to mine. All day, I've been dying for another taste of him. But he's been on his best behavior today. We went for a walk earlier, and he showed me where the ravine is. He also showed me an emergency escape route off the property. I think he's trying to prove that he trusts me.
Instead, he's making me fall in love with him. It's terrifying. I'm not supposed to love him. I'm not supposed to want to stay right here in this bubble with him. And yet…and yet I do. My life is in Tennessee. That's always been my home. Except the longer I'm here, the more this begins to feel like home. The morehebegins to feel like home.
If any part of Marion exists in me, I'm terrified it's going to rear its ugly head and destroy everything. What if I fall too hard? What if I need him too much? What if love makes me ugly and bitter and hateful as it made her? I don't want to be those things. God help me, I want to be his Mischief. Just his.
His tongue touches mine, and my fears fall quiet again, silenced by the power of his kiss, by the intensity of his touch. By the power ofhim. I drag him closer, moaning into his mouth, desperate for more of him. I want the feel of him seared into my brain, the imprint of his hands branded into my flesh. I want him all over me so when he's not there, I still feel him.
"Goddamn, Bella," he growls, bucking his hips into mine when I bite his bottom lip. "I'm going to tear Snoopy from your perfect body if you keep it up."
"I'm not wearing Snoopy today."
"Who?" he demands.
"Maybe I'm not wearing panties at all."
His eyes narrow, hot possession sweeping through them. "You better have my pussy covered, little girl," he growls, pinning my hips to the wall with his as he leans back, readjusting me with his hands around my waist. Once I'm where he wants me, he grabs the band of my leggings—a black pair with little stars on them that the wives picked out for me—and starts rolling it down.
"Cormac, we're outside," I hiss.
"Should have thought of that before you started fucking with me," he rumbles. "Now you're going to sit your pretty ass right there and let me see for myself."
It should be criminal to be this damn bossy and this damn hot at the same time. I don't even like bossy men! But this one gets all growly and starts telling me what I'm going to do, and part of mewantsto obey him. The other part wants to defy him just to see how he reacts.
He drags the front of my pants down, exposing my panties.
"Jesus Christ," he breathes, his eyes locked on the sheer lace. "This isn't a fucking cartoon, Mischief."
"The wives bought them."
"I can see your cunt."
I moan, my core clenching at the reverent way he says it, as if he's talking about the holy grail.
"Fuck. Tell me I can touch it."
