“You have got to stop winking,” I groaned, my eyes closing against the offense to my desires.
“Why is that?” He was hanging over me like a hawk now, his gaze taking in my lips, the bottom one caught between my teeth.
“You’ve heard of the saying, panty dropper?” I asked. “Well . . .”
“Panty dropper, eh?” His lips were dangerously close to mine. “I’m familiar with the term, but I didn’t think it was an actual thing.”
I half laughed and half moaned. “Oh, it’s an actual thing. A huge thing as a matter of fact. Ask anyone.”
“You’re the only one here, so I’ll ask you. How does it work? Do I just wink and they fall off, or do I have to do this first?” He didn’t wait for permission. He just lowered his lips to mine and used his pointed tongue to push his way between them and into my mouth. For the next five minutes he proceeded to have his way with me until I couldn’t breathe, my chest was heaving, and my panties were wet with desire. My hands were wrapped in his shirt, and his thumbs brushed the tender edges of my breasts rhythmically until he broke the kiss to gasp for air.
His lips kissed their way up my jawline to my ear, where he tugged on the lobe gently with his teeth. “How are your panties?”
I moaned at the way his warm breath blew against my ear. “Still hanging on,” I hissed.
“Damn, guess I’ll have to keep trying.”
♥
Mathias backed the SUV up to storage unit ten and put it in park. I let out a breath and glanced around the empty cluster of buildings.
“Do you have a key?” I asked, staring at the bank of storage lockers behind us. The drive to Superior from Plentiful had been quiet, and I hadn’t forced conversation, since I could tell he was nervous about what we’d find here.
“No, if it was there on the boat it’s long gone now. We’re going to have to cut the padlock off.”
We climbed out of the SUV and he opened the back hatch. After he used the bolt cutters to cut the padlock, he lifted the door.
“What the hell?” His gaze roved the unit in confusion. “This is it?” Mathias swung the flashlight on his phone around the space and then dropped it to his side. His tone told me he was as puzzled as I was. “One box.” He knelt by it and took the lid off, using his flashlight to illuminate the contents while I kept an eye on the front of the unit.
“What’s in it?” I asked quietly, afraid to hear the answer.
“Paperwork,” he said before snapping the lid on, hoisting it into the SUV, and closing the hatch. “Good enough. I’ll sort through it at home. With any luck, his lawyer’s name is in there somewhere.”
Home.
I loved it when he used that word even if it often left a pit in my stomach simultaneously. We climbed back into the SUV and while he drove, I pondered if the old farmhouse on Hummingbird Road was home. There was no question it was. After living at the house for two weeks, there was no way I could go back to living in my lonely little apartment. I also knew living with Mathias was only temporary. Eventually, he would find his own place, and it made my heart pound to think about living in the house without him. I wouldn’t have anyone to look out for me, and I didn’t like being alone all the time.
“You’re deep in thought,” he said.
I checked the clock and realized I’d been daydreaming for twenty minutes. “There’s a lot to think about right now.”
“Like?” His eyes flicked to me and back to the road.
I shrugged, unsure what to say. The last couple of days had been emotionally stressful between us. I didn’t want to say something to make it worse. “Charity and Gulliver’s wedding and finding a dress for that. Your mom’s surgery. Milas’s issues. The house. My parents.”
He reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “I thought you and Charity were going dress shopping tomorrow.”
“We are. I just . . . you know, never mind.”
“You’re stressed. It’s okay. I understand why. I’ve thrown a lot at you in a short period. Add in the seizures, Mor, and Milas, and it’s almost overwhelming. Is something wrong with the house or your parents?”
I rolled my eyes to the roof of the SUV and shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“The house shouldn’t need to be handled.”
“It does if you’re someone like me. Just forget it, okay?”
“No, I don’t want to forget it. I want you to tell me what the problem is with the house.”
