Chapter 9
9
CARSON
B efore I can even think about what I’m doing, my mouth is on hers. Warm and soft and sweet. I press her tightly to me, kissing her harder, unable to do the right thing and back away. Something in her touch, in her taste, has sent me over my finely honed edge of control.
She’s never been kissed. This is her first. I want it for myself. I’m fucking greedy for it. I run the tip of my tongue along the seam of her mouth. She makes a high-pitched sound in her throat and opens for me. When I delve inside, I realize I’m in over my head. Because fuck, she’s soft and wet, her mouth a playground for my tongue and a springboard for my imagination. Gripping her hair gently, I angle her mouth, kissing her deeply as she melts, her body going lax as her tongue shyly prods mine.
Kissing me back. She’s kissing me back, and something inside my head pops like a balloon. I’m lost to her, to this mysterious woman who appeared in my life out of nowhere. Was it only hours ago that we met?
Pulling back, she takes in a breath and stares up at me, her eyes dazed. “That was …”
I keep her against me, her weight nothing in my arms.
“Unexpected.” She blinks, as if trying to clear her mind.
Fuck, did I overstep? Of course I did. We’re working together, and here I am pawing at her like some sex-crazed teen. Jesus, Carson, get it to-fucking-gether .
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”
“Don’t be sorry.” She presses her swollen lips together, then smiles a little. “I’m not.” She cocks her head to the side. I’ve noticed she does that whenever she hears the cat. Her smile only grows.
I resist the urge to ask her what Mousey said. After all, some secrets are meant to stay between girls.
“Are you good?” I ask and force myself to release her from my grasp.
“All good.” She doesn’t wobble, but she still has that slightly dazed look on her face.
My heart is racing, my body on fire for more of her skin. I want to grab her again, to grab her by her ass and lift her up so I can kiss her more deeply, feel her against me.
“We should um–we should–” She points toward the woods.
“They’re long gone. We’ll have to go around to the estate wall and check the road, see if there’s any evidence. I have no doubt they scaled the wall somehow or another, then took off with the cat.”
“So someone definitely stole him?” May’s brows draw together.
“It certainly looks that way. Hey–” I tuck the stray strands of her hair behind her ear. “We’ll find him.”
She brightens at that. “I love how certain you sound.”
“Like I said, I excel at finding shit.”
May shakes her head. “No, Mousey, he’s not saying Fitzy is shit. It’s just a turn of phrase.” Silence for a few beats, then May rolls her eyes. “Why are you always messing with me? I thought you were being serious! You think it’s easy for me to detect sarcasm when I’m talking to a cat?”
Mousey, apparently pleased with herself, flounces away across the grass toward the front of the house.
“Come on.” I put my hand on the small of May’s back and lead her in the same direction. “Time to meet with Dudley.”
“You think he’s still standing in the same spot? We’ve been out here for a while.”
“I thought you said I was scary.” I look at her sidelong, the fading sun lighting her hair in tones of gold.
“You’re right. He hasn’t moved a muscle.” She grins.
Her prediction proves true as we walk back into the house. Dudley is right where we left him.
“Find the cat yet?” he asks, perturbed.
“We found some clues,” May chirps.
“How very Scooby Doo of you, young lady,” he retorts dryly.
I don’t like his tone. Stepping up to him, I take satisfaction in the way he cringes slightly back from me. “Hey, starched shirt, you talk to me. Not her. Where were you when the cat disappeared?”
His chin trembles for a second before he says, “I was working on the third floor, directing the maid on how to correctly unfurl Mrs. Farrol’s brand new llama-hair rugs.”
“Which maid?”
“That unfairly beautiful Cece?” May pipes up.
Confused, I glance at her. Cece is nothing compared to May. If anything is unfair, it’s the way I’m not currently on top of May with her moaning my name.
“Yes. We were both upstairs, as I said.”
I focus on the butler, if only to get this over with so I can talk to May. “Where was Lauren?”
Dudley rolls his eyes. “In the garden, most likely. Or perhaps sitting at an open window in a sad attempt to hide the smell of her preferred vintage. Blue gorilla cheese, I believe, is her particular favorite.”
“And you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary that day?” I ask.
“No.”
“And no one visited the house that you know of?”
“No.” He shoots a glance at Mousey. “Other than that mongrel, of course. Hopefully, Mrs. Farrol will have her put down now that–”
“Don’t you dare!” May yelps, anger and fear in her tone.
He gives her a snide look. “I’m simply saying that without His Royal High–”
Gripping his black jacket, I lift him off the floor and slam him against the wall. “I suggest you stop simply saying or Fitzy won’t be the only missing person from this estate.” I glare at him.
He sputters, his feet bumping against the wall as he flails pathetically.
“Now apologize to Ms. Levi.”
“I-I apologize,” he heaves out, his voice two octaves higher.
“And to Mousey!” May adds, her warmth at my elbow.
“But I–”
I press him harder against the wall. “Did she fucking stutter?”
He wheezes, “I’m sorry, M-m-mousey.”
“Better.” I drop him, and he crumples to the floor at my feet.
“We’ll be in touch.” I stride to the front door and open it for May.
She hurries out, a big smile on her beautiful face and Mousey at her heels.