Page 29 of Reckless Harmony

He opened a door, and she paused on the threshold. “Is this your bedroom?”

“Yes, why?” He gave her an impatient look.

“I’m not going into your bedroom,” she said. Butterflies were flapping around in her stomach, and she couldn’t seem to stop staring at his bed. Stark slept there. He slept there, maybe naked, and it was way too easy to picture herself in that bed, definitely naked and riding Stark’s face to the best orgasm of her life.

Rayna!

“If you want your damn cat, you’re coming into my bedroom,” he growled.

Her stomach still quivering, she stepped into the room, following him toward a closed door near the far end of the room. He opened it, and she blinked in surprise.

“Holy shit.”

“You need to take your cat home immediately,” Stark said.

Ignoring him, she sat cross-legged in front of the closet and reached out to pet Molly. “Hello, sweet girl.”

Molly purred loudly before bending her head to groom one of the three tiny kittens sleeping against her belly.

“Look at your sweet babies. What a good girl,” she said.

“No,” Stark said. “Not a good girl. There is blood and… goo… all over my favourite cashmere sweater, Ms. Abrams.”

She studied the dark grey sweater that Molly was nesting on. Feeling nearly giddy with relief over Molly being safe, she said, “Maybe you should learn to put your clothes away.”

“I did,” he snarled. “It was on that shelf, and your dumb cat must have pulled it down to give birth. Do you have any idea how much that sweater cost? It’s ruined.”

She laughed. “Yeah, go ahead and bill the rescue for it. I’ll get my accountant on it asap.”

Stark sighed before squatting beside her. He watched silently as she carefully picked up each baby and examined them. They looked perfect, with bellies already round with milk, and Molly had cleaned them well. She placed them back against Molly, smiling when they started meowing and squirming. Molly meowed back, and Rayna gently rearranged the babies until they were each at a nipple.

They began to nurse, and she petted Molly again. Stark made another sigh of impatience. “How exactly did your cat escape your house and get into mine?”

“I have no idea,” she said. “Did you leave a window open?”

“In the middle of winter?” he asked. “You shouldn’t be letting your cats roam like this.”

“Obviously, I wasn’t,” she said. “Molly is an escape artist.”

“Maybe you should have been watching her better,” he said.

Anger washed over her. How dare he judge her when he had no idea what it was like to keep a cat determined to be outdoors inside. He was such an asshole.

“You need to get them out of here, Ms. Abrams,” Stark said.

She stared at the purring Molly, scratching lightly at her chin as a truly diabolical plan took hold in her head. She hesitated for only a few seconds before deciding that fuck it, Stark deserved to be messed with.

“Sorry,” she said briskly. “I can’t move Molly or the babies.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I move them from the area Molly chose as her nest, the babies will die,” she lied.

He blinked at her. “They’ll die?”

“Yes,” she said. “Molly will abandon them if we try to put the babies in a different nesting area.”

“Are you serious?”

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