Page 67 of Touch of Evil

Emme

This is a torturous tease. There’s nothing more I desire than Bren inside of me. It takes some time and maneuvering, but finally, he makes his way in.

Bren barely fits. It hurts with the most delicious pain. The rock of his hips are initially slow. As his need soars, so do his quickening thrusts.

I orgasm twice before he finishes. He collapses onto his back, his gaze feverish and his breathing mere pants. I climb on top of him and touch his soft beard.

Bren kisses me for a long time and I cherish every second. As our lips part, I rest my head against his chest and sigh in absolute bliss.

Bren

“I knew this was right,” she whispers.

It’s the last thing Emme says before she drifts to sleep.

This is the part where I usually say, “Okay babe, I’d better get going,” or “I have to get up early. How ‘bout I call you a cab?”

Yeah. It’s how I roll. It’s how the females I go home with roll.

So why am I letting Emme sleep on top of me? Why am I stroking her back and hoping like hell she doesn’t leave?

Da fuck? Am I going to flick on theLifetimechannel and start crying, next? The last time I let a woman sleep with me all night, I was ten, she was my Mom, and she’d dozed off reading me a story.

Emme looks pure lying next to me. How did I never notice her this way before?

I can’t wake her now. It’d be a dick move.

My fingers stop skimming down her back and I settle into her. So what if she stays one night? She was so cold before and now, she’s warm and soft and peaceful. Only an asshole would disturb her now.

* * *

My landline rings next to me, waking me up from the best damn sleep of my life.

“What?”

“Son of a bitch, Bren, you don’t have to growl.”

“Taran?” I ask. I bolt upright.She knows.

“Yes, it’s Taran. Goddamn it, you just about blew out my eardrum.”

“Oh,” I say.

“Oh? Really? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” she demands.

“Ah.”

She huffs. “Well, you probably know why I’m calling.”

Emme stirs beside me and stretches. The sheet covering her slips down and exposes her breast. “It was an accident,” I blurt out.

There’s a rather dramatic and irate pause on the other end. “What was an accident?” she asks.

“I don’t fuckin’ know. Whatever you’re asking about.”

“The werewolf who was cut up like sushi?” she asks. “I thought some mutant octopus witch did that.”

“She did,” I reply.

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