Page 87 of L.O.V.E

It hit me then that any new traditions would include Lacey. As they should. Envy embittered my already sour mood. I wanted what they had. “New traditions,” I acquiesced, downing my drink in one swallow. Fighting the urge to hit something, I said, “Besides, you suck at poker anyway.”

Ellis only laughed. “Maybe we should join the ladies.”

The ladies. God, I’d been itching to see Natalie’s sweet face all night.

We headed upstairs, leaving the smoky basement and Martin’s ghost behind.

Natalie and Lacey sat on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table, a display of ridiculously large cards on the table between them. The baby slept bundled in a Seahawks blanket on the couch, down for the count.

“Go fish!” Natalie threw her arms up and then pointed at Lacey, wiggling in a happy dance, her red glasses falling down her nose. The air seemed thinner, and I forced slow breaths. In—one, two, three, four. Out—one, two, three, four. I reached into my pocket for the gold that was no longer there, my agitation rising again. But I focused on Natalie, the silver in her eyes more precious than the metal I’d lost. The shy smile she flashed before looking away more soothing than my missing charm.

“What’s going on up here?” Ellis asked, curling up behind his wife.

“Go Fish,” Lacey said, arching her neck to kiss Ellis.

“It’s our Thanksgiving tradition,” Natalie threw in, righting her glasses. She scooted to the left. “Want to join us?”

Ellis and I exchanged glances. He shrugged, shooting me awhy not?gesture.

“Sure,” I mumbled, thankful for the alcohol in my veins. I wouldn’t survive the evening without liquid aid to dull the jagged edges.

“Perfect.” Natalie clapped her hands together and hopped to her feet, snatching her wine glass. “I need a refill. Anyone else?”

“One more for me,” Lacey sang.

Ellis hugged his wife. “Water for me, please.”

“Cole?” she asked over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen.

“Yeah,” I answered on reflex, “I’ll have a drink.”

That cursed, invisible string between us tensed, drawing me closer, and I followed behind, focused on the sway of her hips. My balls tightened. Chest constricted. Hands curled into fists.

Unsettling how much I wanted this woman.

She stopped at the counter. Lifted a bottle to fill her glass.

Mind numb, body reacting to her witchery, I closed the distance between us and lifted the Barolo from her fingers, placing it out of reach.

Natalie turned.

I pinned her to the counter, my loafers bracing her bare feet. Hands to her cheeks, I ducked, claiming that sinful mouth, stealing her precious breath. Sweet and fruity. God, she tasted too good.

Her tense body softened. Her tongue met mine and, sweet hell, she kissed me back with all the softness I lacked.

My life hung in the balance. Natalie held the string.

Cold fingers found their way under my shirt, dancing along my heated skin before digging grooves down my ribcage. She rose on her toes like she wanted to climb my body.

Cupping her ass, I pulled her closer, ground my hips, and sucked on her tongue.

Natalie whimpered, fucking whimpered, going boneless in my arms, and I lost control, instinct taking over. My only conscious thought—burying myself in Natalie King.

My cell rang. I ignored the wretched tone.

Natalie pulled away. I gripped the back of her head and brought her back to my mouth.

The ringing continued.

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