Page 82 of Smooth Sailing

Hell no.

They couldn’t go there.

“Don’t give me that,” he growled.

“So you guessed already that I was trigged and why.”

Hugger said nothing.

“When that happened, Dad?—”

Oh no.

They definitely couldn’t go there.

“Don’t give me that, Di.”

“He made it so that guy?—”

“I’m tellin’ you, babe, don’t fuckin’ give me that.”

“That guy?—”

Fuck it.

To shut her up, he hooked her around the back of the neck, yanked her to his body, bent his head and took her mouth.

For a beat, she stilled.

Then she melted into him and her hands slid up his chest.

Given the invitation, he tipped his head to the side and touched his tongue to her lips.

She opened, Hugger slid his tongue inside and tasted toothpaste and warmth and woman and mysteries and truths and the fullness of life.

All of it crashed into him all at once.

It was crushing.

And it was fucking fantastic.

He angled his head even more, clamped his arm around her, leaned into her, arching her over his arm, and took the kiss deeper.

Diana mewed in his mouth and slid her fingers into his hair, her other arm tight around his neck.

She pressed close, and she gave.

And gave.

And more.

Then she took, tangling her tongue with his, darting it in to get her taste of him.

Feeling her invade, his cock jumped and a growl rolled up his throat.

Her mew came back and she pushed harder into his frame.

They held on and took from each other and gave to each other and nothing else mattered.

---