Whose Bed Have Your Claws Been Under?: A sweet & steamy monster romance (Monsterville, USA Book 3)
Whose Bed Have Your Claws Been Under: Chapter 16

I was going to climb into the bath with Paige, not just scrub her back. And I had some ideas about other areas I could scrub while I was at it.

My cock was on fire, threatening to burst into a full erection whenever Paige teased me like that. Payback was going to be extra sweet.

Chocolatey, in fact.

Heat buzzed through my veins, but I took a strange satisfaction in telling my body to slow down and wait. When Paige and I finally came together—and hell, yeah, we would—I wanted her in as high a fever pitch as me.

My goal was to have her writhing, pretty much begging, before I swept her up and laid her on a bed.

They brought out plates of tiny cakes after the meal, and we ate until we felt we were going to burst.

Bart rose and moved around to the head of the table, his fanged grin taking us all in. “I see you’ve enjoyed your meals.” His gaze went from the plate of empty snail shells I’d wisely taken back from Grannie Vi after she ate them, to me, and his grin widened. “Are we ready for our late-afternoon activity?”

“Yes,” Monica exclaimed, clapping.

Who would’ve thought an after-a-wedding weekend could be this fun? I thought I’d be bored, that I’d be making excuses to Trevor to leave early. Instead, I wanted to remain in this magical place forever.

“Raze told me what we’re doing next,” Elisa said, shooting him a shy smile that he seemed oblivious to. Did he notice she’d gone from snarling at him to crushing? Maybe not. I didn’t know Raze well, but from what I’d seen, he was highly focused on building his business and completely unaware of anything else.

She was sweet, though, and I could see how they might fit together nicely. Why should two wedding planners compete when they could work together to make one well-running machine? Maybe they’d end up giving a combined effort a try. Then, they’d be a powerhouse wedding planning business.

“If you’ll all bundle up for an outdoor activity and join us out front,” Bart said. “We’re going for sleigh rides!”

“Oh, that sounds romantic,” Elisa said. She peeked up at Raze through her lashes.

Raze had his phone out, and I assumed he’d organized this event and was checking “sleigh rides” off on his list. If any other activities or treats were included in the event, he’d speak with Bart to ensure they were presented at the perfect time and place as well.

“Let’s go, everyone,” Monica said, her smile taking all of us in as she rose from her chair.

“Not me,” Uncle Bub said. “I’m not freezin’ my ass off outside when I could sit in front of the fire and sip some wine.” He glanced at Grannie Vi. “What do you say, Elvira? Join them and risk patootie frostbite or cozy up to me near the fire?”

“Wine and a fire, you say? Why Bub.” She grinned and tapped his arm. Rising to her feet, she grabbed her cane she’d leaned against the table. “You’re not planning on getting me tipsy and seducing me, are you?”

“Would you like me to?” he asked, his face scrunching. He also got up and took his cane, following her toward the door.

She giggled and picked up her pace, clunking out into the hall. “Why don’t you follow me and find out?”

“Women,” Uncle Bub said to us all. “I always felt a man was given one choice in life when it came to ‘em. You can love ‘em, or you can understand ‘em. It’s a toss-up for me right now, but maybe now’s the time to find out. I’ll see you youngin’s later—much later.”

With that, he left the room.

Monica snickered behind her fingers.

Trevor rolled his eyes. “Too much information for me.”

“For sure.” Rylee took Gunner’s hand. “What do you think? Loving or understanding?”

“Both,” he said. “I’m picking both.”

“He’s a wise orc,” Paige said, joining me as we left the room.

We dressed for the cold and met out front on the walkway.

Across the drive, a dual metal track cut through the snow, arcing around the inside of the driveway. A horse’s neigh rang out from our left, and a sleigh pulled by two fake horses glided in our direction, followed by four more vehicles.

“There’s mulled wine in a flask by your feet, plus mugs,” Bart said from beside us. He’d placed a bright green hat on his head—his horns jutting up from each side, plus a matching coat with fuzzy white trim. He wore no boots, but I assumed he had equal traction with his hooves on wood and carpet. “Warmed blankets await you for your leisurely ride through the forest. The ride takes about an hour, and when you return, we’ll bustle you inside to join your elderly relatives by the fire.”

I was eager for the ride; less eager to join Vi and Bub by the fire if we were going to interrupt something I’d have to bleach my eyes out after seeing.

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