Page 53 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
“Lottie, are you okay?”
I pause my assault on Thane’s backside and throw a thumbs-up in the air. “Just peachy, Rafe. Just. Fucking. Peachy.”
I hear Kara’s laughter next, and I silently curse myself for cursing, then go back to pounding on Thane’s back.
The crack hits my ears first, and then my ass cheek explodes with a mixture of heat and desire.
“Did—did you seriously smack my ass?”
“I’m mad as hell, Charlotte. Do not push me.”
“Push you? Push. You? Of all the high-handed bullshit—” An idea hits me, and I laugh out loud while untucking his soft white button-down.
“What the…” The hitch in his stride has my grin taking on an evil edge. I finally got one up on him.
Before Thane can finish his sentence, I reach into his pants searching for his underwear.
“Is she—” Rafe doesn’t finish his sentence.
Thane freezes at the foot of my porch just as my hands latch on to bare muscular ass cheeks.
My fingers squeeze both rock-hard globes, and I am powerless to stop them. Who knew appendages could have a mind of their own?
“Attempting to give me a fucking wedgie? Yup. She sure is. Take Kara inside. I’ll be home…”
He smacks my ass again, and I howl like a wolf. Asshole.
“Later,” Thane growls before stomping up my porch steps and letting himself into my home.
“The nerve.” I’m seething and seeing red. “Where’s your underwear?” My hands are glued to his ass. My mind tells me to move them, but they don’t respond except to flex against his muscles as they move.
“I don’t like seams.”
This makes me pause. “You don’t like seams, so you don’t wear underwear? Ever?”
He hefts me off his shoulder, probably about to toss me onto the couch, and I scrabble to hang on, so he tumbles to the cushions with me. We’re a mess of tangled limbs and flaring nostrils, neither ready to back down.
“Never,” he says quietly. I can’t stop staring at the way his lips move. How his tongue lashes out and licks his bottom lip, as though he’s angry at it for daring to be dry. How his eyes dance to a techno beat as he scans my face.
His weight on me feels…right. How can someone who drives me absolutely bonkers one minute be exactly what I need the next?
The cotton of his shirt against my fingers is soft as silk. “Your shirts too?”
He tells me yes with a slow blink that makes his dark lashes stand out against his cheeks. “I have everything custom-made. No rough seams, no scratchy materials, just soft and stretchy. Tell me?—”
Before he can finish his thought, I lift my head from the cushion and slant my lips over his.
We stare at each other, lips touching lips, noses on noses, not moving, but understanding on a deep, magnetic level what the other is experiencing.
Thane grows long and hard against my thigh, and I arch my back into him even as my lashes flutter closed. It’s then that he takes over the kiss. He kisses like he does everything else. Rough, commanding, authoritative. He owns my mouth, and I put up zero resistance as his tongue slides against mine, tasting, exploring, savoring.
“Perfection,” he rumbles against my lips, and my lashes fly open. He’s still staring at me but more intently than ever. No one has ever looked this hard to see to the core of me. Whether he understands what that does to me or not is anyone’s guess, but when his hips flex, just a fraction of an inch, I think I see to the heart of him too.
His forehead falls to mine as we catch our breath. It’s a gentleness I wasn’t expecting from him, and that makes it hit harder than it probably should.
He sits, pulling me with him and positioning us side by side on the sofa. “Tell me why he’s suing you.”
My brain short-circuits. “How can you kiss me like that and a second later ask about my dad?”
