Page 187 of Tangled Like Us

My stomach knots.

Enjoy it then.

I will.

I uncap the green cream. One dollop on my finger, I smear the green facemask down his nose like sunblock. My lips lift. “Mr. Moretti, I do say, you are quite handsome.”

He doesn’t reply, quiet as usual. But his palm slides underneath the hem of my shirt. His skin is warm against my skin, and his hand trails to the small of my back. Goosebumps prick my flesh. Cold and hot all at once.

I rub the mask on his cheekbones and forehead. My fingers trace every curve of his face, and it feels like one of the most intimate things we’ve ever done together.

His eyes fall into me like the video isn’t live recording behind me. Like the world is so far, far away. I lean in. He leans in. Our lips meet briefly. Suddenly. Like they were drawn together from the start.

We break apart just as quick. Heat compiling, but we can’t create a firestorm here.

I glance over my shoulder. Luna holds up a finger. “And—we’re off live.”

Sulli’s brows are sky high. “Fuck, are you to going for an Emmy or something?”

Luna beams like she’s witnessing something extraterrestrial. “Spring and fall are rising.”

More accurately, those seasons can’t rise together.

Fall rises when spring ends.

40

THATCHER MORETTI

“Wait.”Jane breathes against my neck. “Do you hear something?”

I stop thrusting up into her, my senses still sharp despite Jane sitting on my cock. Despite our skin slick with sweat, limbs rubbing and intertwined. She pauses grinding and moving up and down on me.

I’m leaning against the headboard of her four-poster bed. My hand lost in her brown hair, my other palm keeps her pressed against me protectively.

If need be, I’d be able to carry her out of her room in a swift second. No hesitation. No faltering.

My voice is a cavernous whisper. “Carpenter knocked a headband off the vanity.”

She has her back to the calico cat, perched proudly on the surface. Thefelineaudience is necessary. Or else they’ll cry at her door.

I sense Jane focused on my eyes that sweep her room. Assessing. Landing on each cat.

Walrus is stalking a shadow from moonlight. Licorice is peeking out from the closet. Lady Macbeth sleeps like an old queen on the cushioned stool.

And Ophelia is at thefootof the bed. Curled up watching me fuck her owner. We’ve shooed her off the mattress four times already.

I focus directly on Jane. “All clear.”

Desire wells up in her eyes. “Thatcher.”

My pulse thumps. I cup her warm face, her pink lips unable to press together. In a permanent pant, and my cock throbs for friction while deep inside her tight heat.

In my peripheral, I catch the glint of light under the door.

Shadow passing by. A nearly inaudiblecreak.

Jane turns her head.