“He’s fine,” Kami tells Tyler once again as she snaps her travel vet bag shut, which I’m pretty sure she has specifically for Rufus.
We’re sitting in Tyler’s living room, my cat in my lap, sleeping off his near-death-by-bag experience, Tyler himself pacing the room in front of the aquarium that I double-checked Rufus couldn’t somehow get into before I left earlier, and in need of having his heart rate and blood pressure checked.
And he probably has a few extra bumps and bruises too.
I stroke Rufus, who’s purring so loudly as he sleeps that the neighbors downstairs can probably feel the vibration, and ignore the subtle smirk Kami’s wearing.
She drove across town after bedtime on a work night so that Tyler could sleep tonight knowing that Rufus’s neck was completely and totally fine.
She probably thinks she’s helping me get a booty call.
Or Tyler.
But I doubt that’s the entire reason she’s heading for the door so quickly, now that Rufus has been declared fine.
“Thanks for coming,” Tyler says gruffly.
She smiles at him with her brilliantly kind Kami smile. “It’s Rufus. I expect this at least once every few months.”
“He tried to climb into a glass of milk once and gave himself diarrhea,” I offer.
And then I wince.
Hey, Tyler, let’s talk about body waste and then bang.
“My personal favorite was when he tried to eat a bag of yarn,” Kami muses.
“Not the yarn,” I agree quickly. “He wasn’t trying to eat the yarn.”
“No, he was eating the burlap bag it was stored in,” she explains.
“We were all together for Thanksgiving anyway, so Kami didn’t have to drop anything for him that time.”
“He hated the taste after he got the first bite off and walked around dry heaving for what felt like an hour before we figured out he had a bit stuck at the back of his throat.”
“Kami’s an angel.”
“Rufus is lucky he’s lovable when he’s not testing the limits of his nine lives.”
“Yolnt.”
They both squint at me.
“Like YOLO? But for a cat? You Only Live Nine Times? That’s Rufus’s motto. I should get him a collar with it.”
Kami laugh-sighs.
And Tyler’s shoulders drop below his chin for the first time since I got back to his place.
But all too soon, Kami’s gone, undoubtedly heading home to a hero’s welcome from Nick, which will probably involve happy naked time for them, and it’s just Tyler and me and my cat left here, and I want to hug him—the guy who whisked me away to his downtown sanctuary, I mean, not Rufus—except I’m suddenly feeling very, very shy.
Screw it.
If my cat can be brave and adventurous and accidentally try to maim himself on a regular basis, I can work up the courage to stand up, meet Tyler on his way back from walking Kami out, throw my arms around him, and kiss him.
And I will.
I am.
I’m setting Rufus aside. Standing up.
Looking at the man who’s looking back at me with that mix of are you sure you’re okay? and I worry about you for more reasons than a normal man should worry about a normal woman in his flickering blue eyes.
He knows why I left med school.
He knows I’m average. I don’t finish at the top of anything, unlike him, who has two championship rings tucked away somewhere.
He knows I have insecurities and weird relationships with my parents.
And he’s still meeting me halfway, eyes locked on mine, determination written in the set of his lips.
He lifts a hand to stroke my hair. “I’m taking you out for breakfast tomorrow.”
That’s all it takes.
One growly sentence from a stubborn, overprotective, sexy man-beast, and I’m flinging my arms around his neck and pressing my mouth to his.
A rough groan comes from his throat as he takes charge of the kiss.
Every cell in my body flashes to life. My brain threatens to spell out all the reasons this could go wrong, so I hit the off switch, part my lips as he flicks his tongue over them, and let myself believe.
I’m attractive.
I’m sexy.
I’m worthy.
I’m wanted.
His beard tickles my face while his hand slides down my spine. I want him to touch me everywhere, all at once, and I want to touch him everywhere too. My fingers thread through his barely-long-enough hair. My other hand explores the thick cords in his neck, then the broad expanse of his chest.
He walks me backwards out of the living room and down the hall to his bedroom, his arms solid around me, his hands settling right above my ass, his thick, hard length pressing into my belly, our feet sometimes tangling, which makes both of us giggle as we’re still kissing.
My heart is fluttering harder than a hummingbird in a hurricane.
The backs of my knees touch the bed long before I’m done kissing him, but he breaks away as we stop.
I whimper.
I do.
But it’s barely a half whimper before I go mute again, because Tyler’s pulling his shirt off, and holy mother of fried fish.
I want to bite his shoulder. I want to lick his tattoos.
I want to leave my mark on every inch of him.
He tosses his phone on the floor like he doesn’t have it in him to aim for the bedside table, and then he leans in and goes vampire on my neck. “I’m going to strip you naked, eat your pussy, and make you come so hard you’ll forget time exists.”
“O-gurp,” I gasp.
O-gurp? O-gurp?
He already has me halfway to forgetting how words work.
He was all talk last time too, a snide little voice in the back of my head whispers.
I ignore it.
That Tyler and this Tyler are two different people.
This Tyler is sliding his hands under my hoodie while he does a magic trick with his teeth and his tongue on a spot below my ear that I didn’t even know existed.
It’s like I’ve been dipped in a pool of straight pleasure.
Everywhere he touches, my nerves explode in exquisite joy. My panties are wet. My nipples are pebbled so hard, my breasts have goosebumps.
I want to explore his body, but it’s all I can do to cling to his shoulders, the heat of his skin seeping into my hands and leaving my palms itching for more but completely ignorant of how they’re supposed to work.
He guides one arm out of my hoodie and the T-shirt underneath. Then the other arm.
He doesn’t catch my chin on the fabric when he pulls it all over my head like I do half the time, and when my hair frizzes with static electricity, an honest, unguarded smile blooms over his face. “You are the sexiest kind of fucking adorable.”
He smooths it all down, kisses my forehead, then down my nose, brushes my lips with his, setting my entire face aglow with the combination of hot lips and tickling beard, and then he’s guiding me back onto the bed, nibbling on my neck, crawling between my legs, and worshipping my breasts with his mouth.
I’m still in a bra—a massive, white, double full coverage granny bra—and I’ve never felt sexier than I do with Tyler thumbing my nipples through the fabric and licking my cleavage.
“Good?” he asks.
I grunt out an incoherent response, grab his head, and push it back to my breasts while I fling a leg around his back.