Taking my woman—conscious this time—to my home brings a smile to my face. I’m in love with my house, and I’ll soon fall in love with Tatum. All we need is a few rugrats running around, and I’m set for life.

“What?” Tatum asks once we enter the house.

“I’m a happy person.”

Her green-eyed gaze remains overly focused on me, and I suspect she worries I plan to kill and skin her soon.

“If I wanted to be evil to you, I’d have done it last night. I had you at my mercy, and my dungeon was recently remodeled. Plus, no one knew you were with me. Yes, that was the perfect time to go evil.”

Tatum stares at me, and her expression is unreadable. The love of my life remains a mystery, and I’m dying to learn all her secrets.

“So that’s your cat?” she asks, pointing to the black Persian stretched out along the back of my couch.

“This is Muffin Top,” I say, grinning at how she ignores my evil comment. “She rarely moves from that spot. In fact, when she dies, I plan on having her stuffed and glued to the couch. It’ll be like nothing’s changed.”

“Can I pet her?”

“Of course. She’s mellow as fuck,” I say and walk to the nearby kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? Soda, wine, coffee, I have pretty much everything.”

“I wouldn’t mind coffee if it wouldn’t be too much work.”

I smile at her unwillingness to inconvenience me. She’s a sweet chick, but I hope she doesn’t bow to people forever. She’s begging to get taken advantage of, and I’ll end up spending the rest of my life hunting down those who fuck with her.

“Camel Toe is somewhere in the house, but she’s younger and less prone to playing dead for hours on the couch.”

“I always thought men had dogs,” she says, following me into the kitchen.

“I think that’s because dogs are like women and men like women. Since I have enough women in my life, I like cats. Does that make sense?”

“Not really.”

“Dogs are needy. They want attention. You can give them a shit ton of love, and they still doubt your loyalty. Women are that way too. They always test you. Treat them cold one time, and they act like you’re untrustworthy. Shit, if dogs don’t take crap personally.”

“And cats?”

“They’re selfish. Solitary if needed, but they don’t hate to be around others. Stick a dog in a backyard and leave him there and he’ll go mad and get destructive. Stick a cat in a backyard, and he’ll find something to entertain himself.”

“You said Cricket has dogs.”

“Yeah, because she likes being needed. Cats don’t give her that. Their aloofness hurts her feelings. Same with men. If I don’t pay her attention, she thinks we’re fighting and wants revenge for whatever I did to her to make us fight. It’s dumb, but her man isn’t a cold fucker either. He’s very much a fucking dog. He’d crawl on her damn lap if he could.”

“I’ve never had a pet, so I don’t know what I’d like. No, wait, I take that back. I remember Mom had a parakeet for a while when I was young, but I think one of the kids let it out of the cage and it flew out the door.”

“Did your mom not like pets?”

“She worried about allergies for the kids she watched. Mom always said her first priority was the daycare because it allowed her to stay home with me.”

“And you decided to work with kids too?” I ask as the coffee begins to perk.

“I didn’t know what else I might want to do. I’d worked at the daycare all my life, helping her with lunch or keeping an eye on the smaller kids. When I started homeschooling, I got even more involved in the business.”

“I was homeschooled too,” I say and lean down to give her soft, freckled cheek a full, slightly aroused kiss. Before she can react to the affection, I continue, “Started when I was nine. How about you?”

“Eight,” she stammers, and her fingers caress where my lips just were.

“Did you hate the other kids?”

“Yes!” she cries, forgetting about the kiss and looking irritated. “They were so mean. I used to have trouble reading, and I would freeze up when I got nervous. They’d make fun of me, and I’d cry, so they’d make even more fun of me. It was awful. Homeschooling was so much better. The kids that Mom watched weren’t bullies.”

I love how enraged Tatum sounds about a slight she suffered over a decade earlier. Her ability to hold a grudge is a good sign. I’m a big fan of long-held resentments.

“Cricket and I attended school in Cincinnati before we moved here,” I explain, taking her hand and guiding her to the couch. “After Mom hooked up with Hayes, we talked her into homeschooling us. I didn’t want to be in a class away from Cricket, and I certainly didn’t want to play with the other fucking kids. Cap is homeschooled too which is good since he’s a shy little fucker. A giant shy angelic motherfucker.”

I return to the kitchen to pour our coffee. Once Tatum takes the cup of coffee I hand her, she asks a question I get a lot.

“What’s the deal with your cats’ names?”

“They’re black cats, and I wasn’t naming them Midnight or Ebony.”

“Did you name them that to mess with your sister?” she asks, and I instantly smile.

“Yeah, I did. How’d you guess?”

Tatum gives me a little grin. “I think maybe I’m catching on to how you think.”

“Be careful. If you get too in tune with my brain, you might find yourself stricken with madness.”

“Right now, I have no life plans,” she says, sipping her coffee. “You stole my gun. I have no job. You’re my only friend. I freaked out before I could meet my half brother. My life is just about pointless, so if I go insane by cracking open your head and poking around inside, so be it.”

“Though I respect your suicidal nature, I plan to give you a whole fucking list of reasons to embrace life.”

Tatum sets down her coffee cup and shakes out her arms. “You can start by kissing me,” she says and then throws out her hands to stop me before I’ve even made a move. “I should warn you that I injured the one guy who tried to kiss me before.”

“Did he deserve it?”

“No. He was sweet and hugged me, and I managed to headbutt him and then knock him down. I lack coordination.”

“Or you knew he wasn’t right for you, and you needed to save your lips for me.”

“That’s... No, that’s not it. If it was, then shouldn’t your lips have waited for me?”

“Don’t be fucking silly, Tatum,” I say, shaking my head while resting my coffee mug on the table. “I needed the practice to ensure I was ready to kiss you just fucking right.”

“Stop saying fucking so much.”

“Sure, sure.”

Tatum backs away from me. “How many women have you kissed? Should I have your lips tested for diseases? Wait, can you get lip diseases?”

“Yes, you can, and no, I don’t have any,” I say, leaning toward her until she’s nearly pinned under me. “If I did, would I infect a breathtaking creature like you?”

“I don’t know. I feel like you’re conning me now.”

“That’s because your mind is on nookie and not our everlasting love.”

“We’re not in love,” she says and then frowns. “Nookie?”

“Isn’t that what you call it?”

“Yes, but how do you know that?”

“You said so many wonderful things last night.”

Tatum giggles while still holding me back with the palms of her hands against my chest. My fingers brush across her forehead and then each freckled cheek. Leaning down, I kiss where my fingers just caressed. Tatum exhales, having held her breath for as long as she could. I take this moment to press my lips against her parted ones.

Our first kiss is both fantastically fucking satisfying and instantly leaves me painfully addicted.