“I think until they can get up and down themselves without breaking their necks, the bed should be off-limits,” she repeated. He grinned. She kept going. “Unless there’s human supervision.”

He kept grinning as he asked, “We done with the fashion show?”

She nodded, then started looking around. “I should pick up.”

He started walking backward, taking her with him. “You can do that later.”

She tipped her head back to look at him. “Low, it won’t take a minute.”

He hit bed, went down, she landed on top of him, and he immediately rolled so he had the advantage.

He lifted his head to look down at her but he didn’t lift it far, just enough so her brown eyes, her beautiful face, her cute mole were all he could see.

He focused on the mole.

“Think I mentioned I appreciate that you give great head, baby. I also ate you hard and later we fucked fast.” He looked to her eyes. “Now we’re gonna take all that slow.”

She dipped a hand in his shirt so he felt it against the skin of his back.

She was in with his plan.

“I should check the kitties,” she said.

Maybe she wasn’t in with his plan.

“They weigh less than two pounds each. They couldn’t hurt each other or anything else even if they put effort into that shit.”

“But—”

“After I eat you.”

She melted.

But she started, “Snooks—”

“And you suck me.”

She licked her lips but said nothing.

“And we fuck. Then you can check on ’em.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay,” he whispered back.

Before she could say anything else, he kissed her.

They carried out his plans and took their time doing it.

In the end, she was so out of it after two orgasms, lazy and half asleep, it was him who checked on the cats.

They’d managed to get up on her couch and were asleep on opposite ends of it, one snuggled into an afghan, the other half buried under a toss pillow.

They were good.

So High went back to his girl in order to join her in bed, fall asleep, and dream of Millie’s blow jobs.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

No Matter How That Happens

Millie

I SUCKED IN a deep breath and pinned a smile on my face, moving toward the back door since I heard Logan’s truck pull into the courtyard.

It was Friday night. He was there with his girls to pick me up for dinner.

I was a nervous wreck.

I just hoped I was hiding it.

I was in a nice pair of jeans, a frilly (but not over the top) blouse, and fabulous high-heeled booties. I’d secured my hair in a ponytail at the nape of my neck, had on subtle makeup, subdued perfume, and a touch under my usual amount of jewelry.

In other words, I felt I was ready to face my first meeting with the daughters Logan adored, representing myself as his choice in a positive light.

Or at least I hoped that too.

I unarmed the alarm, opened the door, and stood in it, watching them hopping down from the truck, these activities illuminated by my outside light.

And as I watched, all thoughts of clothes, shoes, and jewelry flew from my head.

I should have asked him to show me pictures.

In all that was happening, I didn’t ask him to show me pictures.

Big mistake.

I had no idea what his ex looked like but Logan’s daughters looked exactly like him, except young and female, but just as beautiful.

Through all that beauty, the vision of them killed. The hit of it striking so hard it was a wonder I didn’t fall to my knees.

I’d never know, not ever, if they were what I’d have given to him. But the idea that such perfect specimens of all that was Logan in girl form might, in some alternate universe, have been what I’d help him to create, what would have been his and mine, what we’d watch grow even more beautiful with each passing day, was too much to bear.

I couldn’t handle it.

I was stiff as a board and deep breathing as they all moved as one to the door.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from the girls.

“Babe,” Logan called.

With a great deal of effort, I forced my gaze to him.

He took in the look on my face and I saw the pain of understanding slash through his and that hurt even more.

I realized they’d stopped moving when I heard a relatively snotty, “Is she gonna let us in?”

This took me out of the moment and I looked down to the girls, who were both tall, like their dad.

In fact, taking them in up close, I saw absolutely everything was just like their dad.

God.

I had to get it together.

“Hey,” I pushed out. “So sorry.” I moved aside. “Come in out of the cold.”

The taller, likely older one, Cleo, gave me a careful smile and moved inside.

The shorter, probably younger one, Zadie, gave me a once-over, stopped on my blouse, my boots. Something slid over her face I couldn’t read, then she marched in.

After she did, Logan moved in, not to the house, to me.

I felt his hand at my waist, the bristles of his whiskers brush my cheek, and heard him say at my ear, “Fucked up. This was too soon.”

I pinned another smile on my face, this one as beaming as it was false, pulled away, and looked at him.

“It’s all good,” I stated brightly, then moved farther into the kitchen, Logan coming with me and shutting the door¸ all this happening with me turning my attention back to the girls and declaring, “Welcome! I’m so glad to meet you.”

“You too,” Cleo replied.

Zadie didn’t say anything. She was looking around, though the good part about this was that she was looking around and doing it with her mouth open in what appeared to be wonder.

“Babe, this is Cleo, my oldest,” Logan stated, moving in and wrapping his arm around the taller girl, tucking her into his side. “And that’s Zadie, my baby.”

“Hi, Cleo,” I greeted.

She waved and mumbled a shy, “Hey.”

I turned to Zadie and opened my mouth but didn’t say anything when she looked to her father.

“This house is like a non-fairy tale, fairy-tale castle but in house form,” she decreed.

Oh, thank God.

Suddenly, all the effort, expense, and hassle of renovations became more worth it than it already had been.

Logan grinned at me. I grinned back.

My eyes shot to Zadie again when she shrieked.

“Look at that kitty!”

“What kitty?” Cleo asked, a thread of excitement in her voice. She pulled from her dad and moved toward her sister.

“He has blue eyes, he’s teeny-tiny, and he’s all fluffy,” Zadie breathed excitedly, now hunched over and walking toward Chief, who was lounged on his side on the edge of the living room rug, studying her warily.

“Oh my gosh, they’re so cute,” Cleo whispered reverently. “They’re, like, perfect. Look, Zade, there’s another one on the couch.”

She wasn’t wrong. Poem was sitting on the arm of the couch, also studying the girls warily.

And suddenly paying through the nose for two purebred cats became more worth it than it already was.

I followed the girls to the space between living room and kitchen and stopped. When I did, I felt Logan move in beside me and he slid his arm around my shoulders.

I wasn’t sure about touching in front of the girls but I figured he was their dad, he’d know how to play this, so I had to follow his lead.

Thus I slid my arm around his waist.

Cleo turned to me and didn’t even blink when she saw me standing close, holding and being held by her dad.

She was in kitty wonderland.

“Can we touch them? Hold them?” she asked.

“Of course, sweetie,” I answered.

She grinned genuinely and it transformed her whole face, making beauty exponentially more beautiful.

Zadie already had a hold of Chief and was cuddling him under her chin.