Sleeping.
“Well,” I said. “Isn’t this a strange turn of events?”
“I don’t know what happened.” He looked over at me, confused. “I put the box on the sofa, then she climbed out, and tried to jump off the sofa. I thought she might hurt herself, so I put her on my lap and now…”
“Now she’s sleeping against your neck.”
“Yeah. And I’m kind of afraid to move.” He paused. “But she is really, really soft.”
“For someone afraid of kittens, you’re doing a really good job holding her.” I smirked.
He was. He had one hand cradling her tiny back, and it was just about the sexiest damn thing I’d ever seen.
He looked down at her awkwardly. “Well, she’s not an otter, but—”
“How many times! You can’t have an otter as a pet!”
“I know, I know.” He sighed. “Sadly. They’d be a great pet.”
“They’d be an awful pet. They’d hit you with their rock all the time.” I shook my head. “So we have a kitten instead.”
“Does she have a name yet?”
“No. Why? Are you naming her?”
He slid her down his body, careful not to disturb her sleep, and cradled her against his arm. “She looks like a Socks.”
I joined him on the sofa and tucked my feet below my butt. “Nope. She’s only got one sock.”
“Patch?”
“No. She’s not a pirate.”
He frowned, then his face lit up. “I know. We’ll call her Otter!”
Oh, Jesus.
“Otter? Really?”
He smiled smugly. “You told me I couldn’t have a pet otter. Now I can.”
“But she’s a cat.”
“Look, babe,” he held out one hand, “It works perfectly. You get a cat, and I get an otter.”
That…sadly made an awful lot of sense.
“It’s a stupid name for a cat,” I said.
“Cats are stupid.”
I covered her ears. “Sssh. Don’t say that. She’ll hear you.”
He rolled his eyes but pulled me into his side with his other arm. He kissed the top of my head. “You’re not very good at revenge, are you, babe?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “But this one is mostly so I can get my own way.”
I tilted my head back. “Please keep doing it. It’s really sexy.”
He laughed, leaning over to kiss me. “You’re lucky I love you.”
I smiled, rubbing my thumb over his jaw. “And you’re lucky I love you.”
“Mm.” He kissed me again, his lips beautifully soft and smooth against mine. “I know I am.”
THE END
TEQUILA TEQUILA
Tequila + your best friend + your bedroom = um, whoopsie?
Don’t sleep with your best friend.
Take it from me. I did it. And it was awful.
I-wish-the-tequila-made-me-forget kind of bad.
The problem is, Luke has forgotten. He swears that he can’t remember a thing about that night beyond the trays of tequila shots being set on the tables.
Except I can’t forget. I can’t forget how good his hands felt until I fell over and hit my hip on the dresser, and I sure as hell can’t forget the entire two minutes of tap-tap-squirt.
Awkward. Embarrassing. And the new subject of a couple of dirty lucid dreams.
But I have no intention of telling him what we did. Nothing good comes from telling your best friend he’s the worst guy you’ve ever slept with.
Which makes the tequila on my birthday a very, very bad idea…
COMING NOVEMBER 13th! VISIT www.emmahart.org/tequila-tequila to pre-order!
Standalones:
Blind Date
Being Brooke
Catching Carly
Casanova
Mixed Up
Miss Fix-It
Miss Mechanic
The Upside to Being Single
The Hook-Up Experiment
The Dating Experiment
Four Day Fling
The Vegas Nights series:
Sin
Lust
Stripped series:
Stripped Bare
Stripped Down
The Burke Brothers:
Dirty Secret
Dirty Past
Dirty Lies
Dirty Tricks
Dirty Little Rendezvous
The Holly Woods Files:
Twisted Bond
Tangled Bond
Tethered Bond
Tied Bond
Twirled Bond
Burning Bond
Twined Bond
By His Game series:
Blindsided
Sidelined
Intercepted
Call series:
Late Call
Final Call
His Call
Wild Attraction
Wild Temptation
Wild Addiction
Wild: The Complete Series
The Game series:
The Love Game
Playing for Keeps
The Right Moves
Worth the Risk
Memories series:
Never Forget
Always Remember
Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages.
She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs.
Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud.
Yes, really. She's that sarcastic.
You can find her online at:
www.emmahart.org
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