“Ugh.” She pushed him away gently and turned to finish the dishes.
Taylor was flustered … he flustered her. She needed to talk to him about Cass without exactly talking to him about Cass and what she thought.
Sadly, that was the second thing on her to-do list that seemed almost impossible. Especially with his lips on her neck or when he was doing domestic shit. Like rinsing dishes as he was now.
Gazing to the side, she watched the movement of his tattooed forearms, and he waved the plate under the stream of water.
Something about a sexy biker doing what old white men calledwomen’s workwas sexy as fuck.
Taylor didn’t realize she was staring at him with her mouth agape until Prowler pulled the soapy dessert plate from her iron grip with a grin. His other hand lifted her bottom jaw with a single finger.
Shamelessly, she took one step aside and just watched him finish the dishes by himself.
Taylor unabashedly appreciated the scene before her. She thought the man looked fine as hell in his cut and thick-soled boots. Black Henley underneath, looking every inch the stereotypical outlaw.
However, there was a lot to be said about him without the cut or boots. His bare feet poked out from the bottom of his jeans. There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t appreciate the way his shirt clung to his muscles, but when he’d pushed those sleeves up his arms? Damn if he didn’t jump fifty points on thefuck me, daddymeter.
What was on her to-do list again?
At some point, Prowler finished the dishes by himself and pulled her into his arms. “Should we take this down the hall?”
Down the hall?
Yes, wait, no.
“But …” Shit, she wanted to forget why she was supposed to protest, at least for the next hour or so.
“Cassidy.” Her name trailed off as Prowler nipped his way across her collarbone. Fuck, why was she making excuses? She should either get on with it or enjoy one last night of passion before she ended things.
“What about her?” He spoke between kisses and nips and kisses and nips. “Did you not get the memo that this was a setup?”
Kisses and nips. Fuck, his mouth was fire, leaving a trail of scorched skin in its wake.
“And we don’t want to disappoint her, do we?” The humor in his voice almost overpowered the lust … almost.
Taylor couldn’t help but smile. Giving in to at least a little heavy petting, she stroked her hands up his chest under his shirt.
An animalistic growl escaped his lips. That roughness in his voice practically stroked her clit and erased her memory. There was a reason she needed to say no, or at least press pause, but for the life of her, she couldn’t recall it. Actually, she could remember; she just chose to have selective memory … just for tonight.
“But … but what if she?—”
“Hears?” He pulled back to ask. Taylor was only capable of nodding before he tossed her over his shoulder and strode down the hall. “Headphones, loud, remember?”
Right, so Cassidy was taken care of. But something else, or multiple something elses, weren’t. With his lips off her, reason returned. She really should rip it off like a Band-Aid and end the intimate nature of their relationship.
But Taylor was realizing that when it came to Prowler, she was selfish. She wanted more, and since she couldn’t have more, she’d take tonight. No guilt, no heartbreak. Just a beautiful goodbye to the way things had been.
When he deposited her on his bed with a bounce and ripped his shirt over his head, a moan escaped her lips. That’s what she needed to get out of her head and enjoy this last night of mind-blowing sex.
While it would be so much more for her.
She leaned up on her elbows and cataloged the play of every muscle as he stripped down to nothing. The only distraction was the sound of a marble or two hitting the floor. She made a mental note to ask him why he carried them but was distracted when his cock jumped. Fuck if he wasn’t a goddamn fictional character.
Ropes of muscle under gallons of ink. Muscles that flexed as he took the few steps to the foot of the bed in slow motion, like he was prowling.
Prowler prowling. She barely stifled her laugh.
Taylor’s eyes swept down his body to his feet, which again she found attractive, and she hated feet. It was strange how she viewed Prowler through a different lens from all other men.
