Page 109 of Hometown Touchdown
“No,” I growl, lifting her into my arms. “I’m gonnawreckyou in it.”
She sucks in a breath and wraps herself around me like temptation incarnate. We barely make it up the stairs. Her shirt is somewhere on the landing, her teeth scrape against my jaw, and I’m muttering every filthy thing I plan to do to her once I get her horizontal.
I don’t just drop her onto the mattress—I follow, catching her wrists above her head like I might pin her down and make her beg. Hell, I just might.
Her jeans come off with a sharp tug. I’m about to follow suit with my own clothes when something stops me cold.
It’s the eyes. Beady. Like the damn thing would come to life if I fed it after midnight.
I squint toward the nightstand.
Brynn follows my gaze and lets out a horrified gasp. “Oh my God. Chauncey.”
Sitting proudly next to a half-melted candle is the stuffed bunny I got her the night she was sick—his ears flopped to the sides, his expression somewhere between confused and deeply betrayed.
“That thing is watching us like some emotionally stunted cuckold who paid for the room but wasn’t invited to play.”
Brynn collapses into laughter. “Knox! That’s my emotional support bunny!”
“I’m just saying! He’s got real ‘third wheel in a doomed throuple’ energy.”
She scrambles upright, yanks the bunny from the nightstand like she’s liberating the bedroom from evil, and hurls him into the hallway with the sort of strength that makes me consider asking her to tackle me next.
We both freeze. Then—laughter. Loud, unfiltered, stomach-aching kind. My head drops to her shoulder.
“I can’t believe I was about to go down on you with that thing watching.”
She gasps between fits of laughter. “He’s probably emotionally scarred.”
“We all are now.”
She wipes tears from her eyes, still catching her breath. “We should bury him.”
“Bonfire. July. I’m bringing the lighter fluid.”
She snorts. “Make it ceremonial.”
My hand trails down her side, settling at her hip. “I like it when you talk about the future.”
There’s a beat. A breath. A shift in the air.
I look down at her, my eyes scanning every inch of skin. “You know how fucking dangerous you are?”
She reaches up, hands on my biceps. “Show me.”
That’s all it takes.
The laughter fades, replaced by need. The kind that simmers, slow and sure. I dip my head to her throat, kissing along the delicate curve, tasting skin that’s flushed and begging. I trail lower, tongue sliding over the swell of her breast, then down to her stomach where I whisper promises into the soft skin just above her navel.
“Knox—” She gasps, hips twitching beneath me.
“Gonna worship this body until you forget your own damn name,” I growl, sliding lower.
I part her thighs. “Look at this pussy,” I mutter, running my thumb along her slit. “So fucking pretty. All mine.”
She whines, trying to grind against my hand, but I pull back and blow a warm breath across her clit. “You need my mouth, baby girl? Or should I make you beg?”
“God, Knox,” she moans. “Please. Don’t tease. I’m dying.”
