“Penelope?”
“My dog.”
Sean had a dog once. Well, his second foster family did. German shepherd. He’d been the only one who the dog didn’t try to eat for lunch. “Friday nights, huh?”
There, finally, the electric blue irises peered up at him. “Yeah, she likes to sit by the tub while I take a bath. She has these big ears and always looks like she’s smiling. It’s really funny. My sister has a dog too. Well, the kids do. Nathan said he wanted a dog that was kid-friendly, so they got a golden retriever. They bring Skipper to the lake house every year for the Fourth. I have to make deviled eggs for the party. Do you like deviled eggs?”
Sean tried his best to follow the erratic thoughts that flowed out of her pretty mouth. At least she was a happy drunk. “Sure. Where’s the lake house?”
“Upstate New York. That’s where I’m from. Well, where my parents moved to when I was nine. We were originally from Mississippi. My parents have a big shindig every year. It’s the only time everyone can get together anymore. I mean, the waves are great in California and Hawaii, so Jenny travels with the weather. She loves fish. Sandra, well… She works around PTA meetings and shit like that. And my Dougie, he has art openings throughout the year.”
She had a big family. It sounded so strange to hear her list name after name. Sean listed one name—his own. The other two names weren’t worth much. Mommy and Daddy dearest could burn in hell. Abigail was working the tip of her pink tongue to lick a strand of pineapple on her lip. He leaned in and gently slid his thumb over the soft flesh. Her eyes melted closed as she let him sink the tip into her warm mouth. The rough edge of her tongue cleaned his finger. God, his jeans were too fucking tight. He adjusted in the seat. As he started to pull free from her wet mouth, he felt the slight pull. She was sucking his thumb.
Jesus Christ! “Fuck, Abigail.”
She popped his thumb out of her mouth and fluttered her eyes open. “Huh?”
He licked the pad of his thumb, tasting pineapple and rum. “You taste good.”
“I do? Well, it’s the drink. I mean, I brushed my teeth, but the drink’s really fruity. How come you didn’t get one?”
He leaned onto his elbows. She mimicked the gesture, only a bit clumsier. “I don’t drink.”
“Oh, that’s good.” A cute hiccup made her shoulders bounce. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Ron didn’t tell me you were coming tonight.”
She pushed the now empty glass aside. “Me either. I knew I was coming. I mean, I didn’t know you were coming.”
God, what did he say to a fantasy? “You look really pretty.” Great for a seventh grader, dumbass.
She looked down at her tank top. He followed her gaze, only his eyes were taking in the deep V between her tits. “You too. Look nice, I mean. I was going to wear the black dress, but I couldn’t decide. I haven’t been out in public like this in a long time. I didn’t know what women wore to a place like this.” She leaned over the table to trace the letters on the front of his T-shirt. “T. K. O.”
It might have only been a fingertip, but the sensation of her finger pressing against his chest made his balls creep up into his body. Fuck, she was tempting every nerve he’d worked so hard to keep under wraps. “It’s the after-school program I volunteer for. Time, knowledge, overcome, that’s what the letters stand for. The program is for boys who’ve been in trouble or don’t have guidance at home. Some of the kids are staying in foster homes. We teach boxing, wrestling, working out. It’s a way for them to work through their frustrations.”
She sank back onto the bench. What would she think? Why did he care? Then she leaned in again. This time, she cradled his face between her smooth palms. “You, Sean Drennan, are a good man.” And then she planted a fat kiss right on his lips, nothing lustful, nothing sexy about it at all. It was full of pent-up emotion. Maybe he was all right in her book.
When she fell back into her side of the booth, he reached over the table and hauled her back. Her surprised grunt was swallowed by his mouth. His kiss wasn’t meant as a friendly gesture. His lips burned to be on her, to eat her up and make love to her. He did with his tongue. Back and forth, their tongues sparred in and out. God, he could fuck her mouth forever. When he finally broke the kiss, her eyes were still closed and her head still tilted at the slight angle he’d put it in.
The blush that painted her rosy cheeks was worth a million dollars. He’d made her smile. He alone had made another person that happy. He could get addicted to the feeling of making her laugh and smile—and moan.