The Bad Boy of Bluebonnet(15)

Emily shuddered. “How do I get rid of them?”

“Pest service, I imagine. I know a guy. I can call him in the morning.”

“So…possums.” It couldn’t be that simple, could it? “Not ghosts?”

“I’m not saying you don’t have ghosts,” Jericho said with a slow smile. “But your attic noises are probably caused by these guys running around at night. I’m pretty sure they’re nocturnal.”

She stared up at him, then around her attic. Possums. Something she could easily have removed. The evidence of rodents was all around her – poop was sprinkled liberally amongst the insulation puffs. How no one else had picked up on it before now, she didn’t know. Even as she shone her flashlight around, one of the piles shifted and she gasped.

“That’s probably one of the culprits right there,” Jericho said, pointing. “Want me to try and flush him out so you can see him and know for sure that it’s possums?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I believe you.”

“You’ll probably want to get all the feces out of here, too. It’s unhealthy and will probably attract others.”

Emily wrinkled her nose. “I believe you. I’ve seen enough poop for now, thanks.”

“Want to go downstairs then?”

She nodded and was surprised – and pleased – when he offered her his hand again. They went back downstairs and paused in front of Emily’s bedroom door. She looked in her room, the blankets still mussed and trailing over the side of the bed.

“I can’t believe it’s something so easy,” she murmured. “Possums. I can take care of possums.”

Jericho pushed his messy dark hair off of his forehead. “Kinda glad it wasn’t ghosts. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d seen Casper up there.”

She laughed and wrapped both of her arms around one of his, hugging him. “This is the best news I’ve had in years. I could just kiss you.”

The look in his eyes grew interested. With his free hand, he reached up and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “So…why don’t you?”





CHAPTER FOUR

Jericho gazed down at Emily – pretty, flushed, tousled Emily in her pajamas and ratty night robe. Maybe he was being a bit forward, but he wanted to see how she reacted. Because he was extremely distracted by her presence. And maybe three in the morning wasn’t the right time to hit on her, and maybe post-poop viewing wasn’t putting her in the mood, but damn.

With an opening like that, he just had to take it.

His fingers stroked her cheek again and he watched her consider, her gaze darting over his face. Then, slowly, she leaned forward and tilted her head back, inviting him to kiss her after all.

He knew an invitation when he saw one. Jericho pulled her against him and lowered his mouth to hers. Emily was a bit shorter than most of the girls he dated, but not uncomfortably so. Just made her seem a bit more fragile. Her mouth was soft and warm under his own, her lips as plush as he’d imagined. And that soft, sweet mouth parted under his lips, and her tongue greeted his.

Lust roared through him, hot and heavy. He deepened the kiss, his mouth moving over hers in a possessive but coaxing manner. It didn’t matter that they were both in their pajamas, hair messy. To him, she was the sexiest woman in the world at the moment, because of the way her tongue flicked against his own in a small, silent encouragement.

And that was all he needed. His hand moved to her wild hair and wrapped in her blonde curls, holding her pinned against him as he made the kiss more urgent, more demanding.

She whimpered low in her throat.

He broke the kiss, giving her mouth a long, slow lick before pulling away. “Can I keep kissing you, Emily?”

She nodded.

“You sure?” He didn’t want to pressure her, and her previous words about not being ready to date were still uncomfortably fresh in his mind.

Her eyes closed and she leaned in just a little more, her fingers digging into his jacket. “I’ll be pissed if you don’t.”

“Well, I don’t want that,” he murmured. His mouth closed over hers again, coaxing her to open for him. But this time it was her tongue that pushed into his mouth, and her demands that led the kiss. Her passion took over, and then it was Emily who was kissing him, her mouth moving hungrily over his, her tongue dipping and flicking against his own.

And…damn, but the woman could kiss. Jericho found himself fighting back a groan of pure lust. There was nothing better than when a pretty woman could kiss like a fucking demon, and Emily Allard-Smith definitely could.

“Want. To. Move. To. Bedroom?” She asked, punctuating each word with a fervent little kiss.