Don't Need You - Lilian Monroe Page 0,20

legs, he lets out an almost imperceptible groan. Does he know I’m only doing it to quell the throbbing in my core?

“So, what’s Woodvale like?” I ask, my voice thick. I can’t meet his eye.

Kit shifts away from me, and I feel the distance like an ache. “It’s nice. You’ll like it. Lots of trees. Lots of rain, too.”

“Snow?” I try my best to sound casual, but my body is raging. Whether it’s his presence or just the messed-up cravings of my body, I’m not sure. All I know is my heart is thumping and it’s hard to speak, and it’s all Kit’s fault. I nuzzle into his jacket as his scent wraps around me, and I know I’m only making it harder for myself.

“Not as much as over here. It’s wet, more than anything.”

“That’s good,” I answer, stealing a glance at him.

His eyes are still on me. They run down my body and back up again, sending sparks flying across my skin. My nipples pucker and goosebumps erupt all over my legs.

If his gaze can do that to me, what would his hands do? Wetness leaks out of me and soaks into my bottoms. I inhale sharply, tearing myself away from my own thoughts. “I should go to bed.”

“Yeah,” he answers, his voice a low rasp.

I stand up, loving the way his eyes darken as I strip his jacket and hat off. When I hand them to him, he nods. “Thanks.”

“Good night.” My body thrums, screaming at me to stay.

“Night.”

I don’t dare look at him again. Instead, I slink back to the bedroom and close the door, letting out a heavy sigh. Slumping down in bed, I bury myself underneath the covers and try to ignore the pulsing ache between my legs.

Robbie has already made coffee by the time I get out of bed. I can smell it when I head to the bathroom for a shower. When I finally get dressed and make it to the kitchen, my brother offers me a steaming mug.

I accept it with a grateful smile, stealing a glance at Kit, who sits at the kitchen table.

“Good sleep?” my brother asks.

“The best,” I answer, smiling into my mug. Kit’s eyes roam down my body, and delicious heat curls in the pit of my stomach.

“I bet,” Kit says dryly.

“What, you didn’t like the couch?” I grin.

“I haven’t crashed on a couch since I was a teenager,” Kit answers. “I must be getting older, because my back isn’t very happy right now.”

You can always snuggle in with me.

Can he read that thought in my eyes?

“Quit complaining,” Robbie says, shoving Kit’s arm. “Be glad you had a couch to crash on in the first place. Bet it’s more comfortable than a family dinner with your sister and her new boyfriend.”

Kit grumbles, but there’s no animosity in it.

We have coffee and a quick bite to eat, then get ready to head to my mother’s house. Round two of Thanksgiving dinner is starting, this time with the extended, extended family. By the time the weekend is over, I’ll have eaten so much they’ll have to roll me home.

Kit has an easiness about him. He moves in the house as if he’s lived here his whole life and doesn’t stop joking and talking with Robbie.

I watch them, realizing just how close they’ve gotten over the past few months.

I’m glad I didn’t kiss Kit last night. It would have been a mistake.

I’m just all messed up over Angelo, and I was craving some sort of male presence. It’s the lizard brain inside me, wanting to be safe and protected—and maybe the lustful part of me, wanting to know what another man’s touch feels like on my cold, lonely body.

The evolved parts of my brain understand it’s an urge. That’s all. I do my best to push it to the side and put on a happy face for a day with the family.

Urges can be suppressed, after all. My lizard brain can be whipped into submission.

Whipping things into submission—now that’s an idea.

I squeeze my eyes shut and gulp down more burning, bitter coffee.

When we get to my mother’s house, half the family is already there. Nonna hands me an apron and turns toward the kitchen, and I throw a glance at Kit. My eyes always seem to find his.

He grins, quirking an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve got a job to do.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” I quip. “Only Nonna can hand me an apron and expect me to get cooking.”

Kit laughs, and I