While You Were Creeping - Poppy Rhys Page 0,27

it was only a few. A few wonderfully filled-to-the-brim glasses of wine.

Kye’s large hands shifted, sliding around to my front, flattening on my belly. It dipped in response, parts long dormant flaring to life. My skin felt too warm under my sweater.

Strands of my hair moved, and I could swear Kye just sniffed it.

No. He hated me, and I hated him.

We hated each other. That was made clear tonight.

People who hate each other don’t sniff each other’s hair or bump their ass into the other’s groin.

Which I just did.

On accident.

I wouldn’t do that on purpose.

His groan touched on my ears like a physical caress, as if his lips had nipped me there.

My ass bumped into him again.

Another accident.

This time there was something large, hard, and straining against his fitted pants.

So, I did what any red-blooded woman would do. I accidentally pressed my ass against it once more. In a very deliberate manner.

Because I hated him.

Because I think I hated him.

His hands dipped under my sweater, the clawed tips dragging against my skin before he cupped my breasts. Access fully granted since my bra was loose, just asking for alien hands to push it aside.

Bare nipples to warm palms.

Fuck. Me.

I whimpered. A real whimper. Mewled, more like.

Kye’s rough hands were gripping my tits, gently squeezing them, and my nipples were hard enough to cut glass.

Kye invaded every space inside my head. Kye’s scent of mint and oranges filled my lungs. Kye’s touch twisted my insides in the most pleasurable way.

Kye, Kye, Kye.

He spun me around, lifted me, and all I could do was hang on, wind my legs around his middle and resist the urge to lick his fucking horns.

I gripped them instead, stroking the left one like I’d stroke his cock, given the chance.

“Holly!” He spit my name like a curse and pressed me against the wall, grinding his hips into me like animalistic lust had taken over.

I’d never, in my entire life, wanted anyone to rip my damned jeans off but, right now? I needed Kye to shred those fuckers with his claws.

My thighs gripped him, pulling him in, needing the friction he could provide.

He pushed us away from the wall, hooves clip-clipping against the wood floors before he kicked my door in. It bounced off the wall with his force.

We tumbled onto the bed, lost. I clawed at his sweater, and he clawed at mine. I had this incessant need to feel his furred chest against me and nothing would stand in my way.

What was this?

What were we doing?

None of it mattered as he tasted his way down the length of my neck, his tusks gently scraping my sensitive skin. My thoughts disintegrated like dust in a flame when his forked tongue slid across my nipple.

“Kye,” I moaned, unsure if the stars I saw were alcohol induced or brought on by that sinful mouth of his.

He looked up at me, his dashed pupils shrinking by the second, as if whatever had taken hold of him was slowly ebbing out of his system.

“What?” I huffed, my hands stilling on his horns. “What is it?”

“We can’t do this.”

“We’re already doing this.”

He extricated himself from my grip and I leaned up, the room momentarily spinning.

Whoa, girl.

Fuck, how much wine did I have?

Kye snatched his sweater off the floor and I glanced at his pants that were pitching a tent, which had my thighs squeezing together. “Where are you going?”

“Goodnight, Holly.”

With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

I lay sprawled on the bed, topless and flushed.

Yep.

I hate him.

THIRTEEN

HOLLY

I couldn’t begin to describe the embarrassment I felt the next morning after I’d sobered up and had an hour, lying in bed, to simmer in my bad choices.

It was even more embarrassing that Kye had been the one to stop at least one of those bad choices from happening. If he hadn’t, I’m sure I would’ve made many more bad choices.

Ones that ended up with my tongue on Kye’s horns and other... things... in my mouth.

I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow.

To make matters worse, I remembered the whole episode in vivid detail. Wasn’t that the point of alcohol—to make you forget?

I want a refund.

My liver had been abused for nothing.

Skully rooted his nose under the pillow, as if he were ashamed of my actions too.

“Sorry you had to witness that, boy,” I mumbled, stroking his soft fur. “Your human’s a mess.”

I got up, flushed the toilet a couple times to calm my nerves, showered, did my hair, and even put