Louie the Lynx and Ryan the Lion: A sweet and spicy standalone romantic comedy (Love Chronicles) by Lahey Sarah

Author:Lahey, Sarah
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cross Over Press
Published: 2023-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

In the sitting room, Ryan knelt in front of the master firebox and fed the stove logs of wood. When the flames took hold, he closed the glass door and cranked it shut. He opened the flu all the way. The air drew over the wood, and the fire raged. Ryan dusted his hands. Standing up, he gazed around the room, taking in the art, the bookcase, and the Thonet chair. It was an old house, with old furniture and a quaint and homely feel. He liked it a lot.

His gaze came full circle and rested on Louie, who was standing in the kitchen, her clothes soaked, her hair plastered to her head. She smiled at him. He thought she had no understanding of the effect she had on him.

An impatient burst of rain battered the cottage windows, and they turned toward the sound and watched as the deluge thrashed against the lilly pillies.

“I love the rain,” Louie said.

“It’s going to rain until August.”

“I don’t love it that much.” She looked at him. “Would you like a drink—tea or coffee? Or water? There might be a couple of beers in the fridge.”

He shook his head.

“If you’re hungry, I made a cake—orange and almond—or I could make you something… else?”

Her nervousness was endearing. What was the appropriate etiquette when you had a man standing in your kitchen on a wet Saturday afternoon, who wanted to kiss you? A heightened sense of anticipation filled the room; they expected something from each other.

“I’m good,” he said.

Without warning, she looked up at him and her eyelids quivered. A signal, quivering eyelids should be taken seriously. Stepping toward her, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, her fingers trailing through his hair.

He felt the urgency in her mouth, her lips, and he pulled her closer. Her body pressed against his; he felt the shape of her breasts through her damp shirt. His mouth slid down her throat, and he licked the drops of water running from her neck—her flowery scent caught on his tongue.

“Oh, god,” she moaned, pulling at his shirt, her fingers finding his stomach.

He pushed her against the kitchen cabinet, his hands cupping her face as they continued to kiss.

Eventually, he pulled away and gazed at her. God, she was gorgeous; even soaking wet he found her mesmerising. Her hair, her eyes, her beautiful skin, the way she looked up at him—he was on fire, and the hot weight inside his chest was spreading through his body. He was burning up.

She shivered. He realised she must be cold. He pressed his hand against her cheek—her skin was icy. “You’re freezing,” he said.

“Am I?”

He looked into her eyes. “Yes, you are.”

She nodded. “I should probably get out of these wet clothes. Maybe take a warm shower. Would you like to⁠—”

“Yes.”

“It’s this way.” She took his hand.

In the bathroom, he pushed her up against the wall and kissed her. She undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it off his back.

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