“God, I missed you.” Toren’s fingers tangle in my hair, cradling my head while his other hand continues to wreak havoc on my breast. I think my bra might be totally flipped inside out by now. I think I might be flipped inside out too.
He moves his head, and I dip mine at the same time, too, causing our chins to nearly smack together, but I guess practice makes perfect because I dart up first. Toren lets out a laugh before he kisses his way over my jaw and licks my bottom lip with a hot drag of his scalding tongue. My body goes boneless, and I nearly melt off his lap.
His hand falls away from my breast and tickles a path down my belly to my navel. He circles it before dropping his hand down, moving lower. Yes! My entire body goes stiff with anticipation, except for my hips. They wriggle wildly as if they belong to someone using a hula hoop while dancing…hmm, I don’t know. The cancan? Yup, that’s it. My hips are acting like they’ve detached from my top half and have a mind of their own.
His hand slips under the waistband of my pants, under my panties, and under…
Thump.
I’m mom-trained, attuned to react to even the slightest noise, even if it means waking up from a dead sleep. Or from a haze of arousal. I jerk, then leap—half jerk, half leap—and go flying off Toren at the sound like a shot has gone off in the room right next to us. Literally. It’s like there’s someone straight from a western movie wearing a cowboy hat and boots with spurs, raising one of those old-school pistols you see in even older movies and firing directly into the roof.
Within seconds, I’m on my feet, tugging my blouse down and wrenching my yoga pants up so hard that the bloody thing gives me a wedgie. I smooth, straighten, get myself decent, run my hands over my face, try to arrange my expression, and try my very best to get the red out of my cheeks and the desire out of my eyes.
Toren is also on his feet, striding away from me, his back to me. He’s doing some adjusting of his own. Yikes! Adjusting? What were we thinking? What if there are wet spots on his jeans? Goodness. It’s not like he could say he was doing the dishes.
Little steps echo down the hall, and then Milo is there, blinking at us sleepily. “Mom?”
He doesn’t know how to tell the time yet since I haven’t taught him anything beyond vague meanings for certain landmark spots in the day, like noon, when I’m off work, bedtime, or getting up time. He’s confused to see me there, though, since it’s still nice and sunny out, and he doesn’t usually get to nap for so long.
“Sorry, bud.” Toren turns and is remarkably composed. “I fell asleep and didn’t wake up on time. Your mom’s already off from work, and it’s almost time for dinner.”
Milo is instantly overjoyed at that since he knows what it means. “Does that mean I can stay up late tonight?”
“We’ll talk about it,” I say patiently, hoping I don’t look like an epic mess. Seriously. I was sitting out here in the open with Toren, and we were getting handsy.
We should not be getting handsy. In the open or otherwise.
And we should not be locking lips.
We should…Goodness. I’m not sure what we should and shouldn’t be doing. My head says one thing, but my body says another. I know which one I should be listening to, but my beating heart, pounding pulse points, and thumping lady bits have a strong argument going in their favor, and for the moment, it’s enough to overrule my brain.
“Yay!” Milo rushes off to his room to get something or other, and I shoot Toren a sidelong look.
“I should probably go now,” he says.
I dig my shoe into the carpet. It’s so worn-down and low-pile that it doesn’t budge, but at least it gives me somewhere to put my eyes. “Uh, okay. Yeah.” Which I hope is code for we need to talk about this as soon as possible.
Oh. Oh, right. I was supposed to be talking to Toren about the bracelet, a curse, and being his soulmate. Those are big things. Things I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get distracted from because we truly and seriously need to discuss them, as of…uh…yesterday.
But now isn’t the time. Because instead of talking things over, I sat on Toren’s lap and lost my mind, head, senses, and myself. In him. And it was…it was freaking magical—unicorns, rainbows, sparkles, sprinkles, and dancing cupcakes kind of magical.
“Okay,” he agrees.
“Okay,” I agree in return.
“Yeah,” he says next.
“Yeah,” I echo.
After a pause, Toren makes his way to the door. His hand lingers on the handle, and I hope for a second that maybe he’ll stay, and we can talk, sort things out, and make sense of what just happened, but I know now isn’t the time. We have to think of Milo, even if it means I have to grapple with the fact that I might be cursed. Alone. Tonight.