Page 13 of Home to the Hollow

His mama would, too. Everyone in town knew that she treated her household staff as if she’d catch poor from them. I don’t say that, though; I give him a tight smile. After all, he has no idea the turmoil I’m feeling over the past since returning, nor does he seem to be trying to be nasty. He assumes that I have a deeper connection to my parents than I feel. That’s not his fault.

Sitting the tray on the table, I settle in the second rocking chair and wait for my furry guests to find perches on the closest lounge. I wasn’t keen on their presence when they barged into my home, but I have to admit I’m fast growing used to their silent support. “Tell me about the paperwork.”

He arches a brow, picking up his bourbon and taking a sip. His eyes widen in approval, and he gives me that shit-eating grin again. “Blanton’s is an excellent choice, Tilly. The paperwork is just normal new hire stuff. Take your time and run it down to Bobbi Jo before Friday so Maryellen can get you set up in all the systems.”

“Mrrrow,” Hyde mutters.

Edgar chuckles and shakes his head. “Your companions don’t like me very much, do they?”

I bite back a declaration of my agreement with them, and shrug. “I’ve always heard that cats are exceedingly particular about the company they keep. They must sense your more… mischievous side.”

He throws back his head and laughs, a loud, belly deep sound that has him flashing the pearly whites of his perfect teeth and exposing his throat. His pulse jumps, and I frown, not sure why I noticed. His amusement flows over me like warm honey, and I can’t help but smile along as I watch. When he catches his breath, his eyes catch mine, and something in them flashes, then disappears.

“Tilly, that’s the best laugh I’ve had all week. I enjoy hearing a Southern girl try desperately to call me a twat in the politest language she can. I was right about your mama the first time—she’d be even prouder now. All you needed to add was ‘bless your heart’ and I’d have a fork in me.”

I blink, my mouth opening and closing like a fish.

So much for being subtle.

Before I can gather the tatters of my dignity, he rolls to his feet, yanks me out of the chair, and pulls me into his arms. I’m so shocked that a panicked squeak escapes me as he wraps my hair around his fist and tilts my head back. I swallow hard, tingles shooting down my spine when the hard planes of his body jut against the soft curves of mine.

“Teddy, what in the actual fu?—”

The verboten moniker barely slips from my lips before he’s kissing me. The rough scrape of his late-night stubble makes me sigh, and my arms wrap around him involuntarily. Ignoring the voice in my mind that’s screaming ‘what the holy fuck are you doing’, I press against the hard planes of his broad chest and narrow hips. A low rumble echoes out of him, and his free hand slides down my side to my thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave a mark.

Our lips break for a second—almost long enough for me to put a stop to this madness—as he releases my hair. I open my mouth to protest, but he swoops in again, capturing my lips with a hunger that I can taste. He grabs my other thigh and lifts, wrapping my legs around his waist as he walks us towards the front door.

It occurs to me that my fierce protectors haven’t so much as moved a whisker even though this brick wall of a guy is manhandling me. The feel of his teeth nipping at my lower lip brings me back to the asshat in question, and I raise my eyes to his. The aquamarine eyes I’ve admired since childhood are a dark blue green with flecks of jade as he looks at me as if he’s waiting for something.

In what may prove to be the worst decision I’ve made since Thailand, I bury my fingers in his raven locks and yank his mouth back to mine. My body hums with excitement, pinpricks of electricity tingling over my skin like fireworks. Rocking my hips against his as he carries me one handed, I tug on the stylish waves at the nape of his neck.

Our entire childhood feud flashes through my mind, but something lurking low in my gut demands that I listen to my aching pussy. It’s been a very long time since I was physically intimate with someone, and I rarely know more than a first name and what they had to drink at the event I met them during.

I’ve always been a one and done girl, and I was careful to keep my selections away from the professional menu. You can’t work for the Prime Minister of wherever if they find out you’ve fucked one of their relatives in the coat closet of an embassy. I never climb on the bull and ride with someone I know as well as I know this man.

“Stop thinking so hard, Tilly,” he mumbles, nibbling my earlobe in a way that makes me shiver.

The nickname should put the flames in my belly out—it’s a cruel reminder of the past—but something about the way he’s saying it makes me clench in the best damned way. “Teddy… we…”

“Shh.” His reply is almost hissed as he nips his way down my throat.

Hands squeeze my thighs as he carries me to the spare bedroom I camped out in until I deal with the master. I don’t know how he found his way here, but he climbs onto the bed with me in hand, stretching over me like a goddamned panther. Heat floods through me, and I know without a doubt that he’s going to fucking destroy me. “But...”

A huff escapes his lips, and he lifts off of me. I don’t open my eyes for fear that I finally scared him away, and I’m not sure if that’s really what I want.

Scratch that. It’s definitely not what I want, and I might actually cry if I did.

The bed dips with the weight of a knee in the mattress, and I almost whimper in relief. Soft silk slides over my torso, making the plethora of bare skin goose-pimple as it travels to my face. His lips touch my ear again, his tone low and husky. “Brattiness has consequences, Tilly.”

I have no idea what he plans to do with one of my silk scarves, but in for a penny, right? “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, Teddy.”

The nickname makes him growl, and my clit throbs in response. “When I say ‘shhhh’, I mean it, sugar.”

The scarf whispers over the marks he left on my neck until it reaches my lips, and I realize he plans to keep my big, fat mouth from ruining this. He allows me to refuse, and when I don’t, he slips the fabric between my lips. His long fingers tie the material in a loose knot at the back of my head, but he gives me room to wiggle it loose if I choose. My nipples harden at the thought of those hands on me in other places, but since I’m effectively gagged, I rely on tactile sensation to make my point.

Edgar Olivier Boone III has a domination fetish, and I’m on board. He’s also moving far too slowly for my taste now.

I grab his hips and yank him closer, arching up to grind my core against him. A chuckle tickles my collarbone, followed by a firm nip, and I wriggle under him again, trying to force him to move at my speed. His hands slide from my shoulders to my thighs, and he yanks them apart to settle his hips between mine. The feeling of victory swells in my chest, but he simply continues biting and leaving marks across my collarbones.

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