Lift You Up (Rivers Brothers 1)

"Orange juice? Or are you good with the coffee?"

"The answer is always yes to orange juice," I told him as I took a deep sniff of the plate, a move that made him grin.

A moment later, he sat down beside me.

My butt shifted so I could drape my legs over his. I rested my plate on my thighs. He rested his plate on my legs.

He flipped through the channels, I grumbled when he settled on the news.

And it was easy.

Natural.

Normal.

There was none of that after-the-first-sex awkwardness.

Everything just fell into place.

"Ugh, turn it off," I demanded, head falling back against the armrest rather dramatically.

"Not a fan of politics, huh?"

"Not in the current climate," I told him. "I just don't like the news in general. It's all fear mongering and pseudoscience. I don't know how anyone can watch it first thing in the morning and go into their day with a positive mindset."

"I can see that. But it is seven a.m. It is this or daytime talk shows."

"Which just rehash the news. With added drama."

"Exactly," he agreed.

"You know what has no drama in the morning?"

"What?"

"Saved by the Bell reruns."

"Noted," he agreed, flipping to the channel as he took my plate, piling it with his on the coffee table, then reaching for me. "Come here," he demanded, grabbing my hips, pulling me to straddle him. "I think we missed our appointment," he informed me, fingers sinking into my ass, dragging me closer.

"I think you're right," I agreed, sealing my lips over his.

The desire was just pooling in my belly when Padfoot chose the exact wrong moment to trot over to the front door and whine. And whine. And whine.

"Shit," Kingston grumbled, pulling away, glancing over at the dog who clearly needed to take a walk.

"Someday, you will have a fenced yard and can just let him out," I told him, taking a deep breath, sliding off his lap.

"I don't want to leave you here all alone," he told me, eyes watching me.

"I'll be fine," I told him, waving a hand. "I am going to wash these dishes," I added, climbing off the couch, grabbing the plates, taking them toward the kitchen, reminding my body that it would just be ten minutes or so until I could have him back, get another hit of my new addiction.

"Ten minutes," he promised, going down the hall, coming back in a tee and sneakers, grabbing the leash to hook it on Paddy's collar, then opening the door, setting the alarm, locking and closing the door behind him as he left.

It was a long ten minutes, I decided when all the dishes were washed, dried, put away, and there was still no sign of Kingston and Padfoot. On a sigh, I moved into the bedroom, gathering an outfit, making the bed, busying myself.

I was just moving from the bathroom where I deposited my outfit to climb into later - preferably after an epic sex session that would make my already sore thigh muscles even more achy - when I heard the beep of the alarm, a sound that made a smile pull at my lips, made my belly shiver in anticipation.

But then the beep didn't stop.

It didn't stop.

Because whoever was in the apartment didn't know the code.SEVENKingstonNever was a man so anxious to get home.

Nor a dog so particular about the place that was worthy enough to use as a makeshift bathroom.

I tried to tell myself that maybe a walk was good. Maybe it would cool me down, let me go back into the house and take my time with her like we had the night before. Though, I wasn't entirely sure how the hell I had pulled that off with the need coursing through me like never before. Stronger even than my first time.

All I could conclude was the desire to see her fall apart surpassed my own need to feel it myself.

Because, well, it was her.

The dream girl in real life, in my home, in my bed, in my arms.

We'd chosen not to talk about it. But, somehow, we managed to say a lot without talking. I didn't have to ask to know that she was on the same page as me. That this was something worth exploring. That getting a taste didn't satisfy the craving, that maybe no amount of gorging ever would.

I liked the idea more than I could say. Having her soft and sweet to come home to after a day of cold and hard. Maybe she would be cuddled up under blankets on the couch with Padfoot, or - let's be real here - the four or five dogs she had insisted needed to come home and join our family. And she'd kiss me with that wild abandon she had the night before, and this morning. Then we'd take the beasts for a long walk, come home, make dinner, fall into bed and into each other. We could show up at Sunday dinner holding hands, take the ribbing from our friends and family as a united force. We could move into her place eventually, after the work was done. Maybe, just maybe, if I was the luckiest sonofabitch in the world, she could give me kids some day. We could watch them from the back porch, kicking balls around as the dogs chased them across the field.