Wicked
Page 91

I grinned, feeling absolutely boneless. "What?"
"You owned me with just one kiss," he said, and my chest clenched with the most exquisite pressure. "I just wanted you to know that."
Emotion clogged my throat, and when I spoke, my voice was hoarse. "Okay."
A crooked smile appeared and he kissed me softly. "Stay here. All right?"
I nodded, and when Ren withdrew from me and left the bed, I settled against the pillow, closing my eyes as I stretched my arms and legs. A big, goofy smile pulled at my lips. Parts of my body were sore in the most delicious way, and I couldn't remember ever feeling this relaxed. Like I'd spent the week getting a deep tissue massage and now—
A sudden shout from the kitchen, followed by the sound of something crashing to the floor jerked me into a sitting position. Heart pounding, I threw my legs off the bed and grabbed Ren's shirt. Tugging it on over my head, it fell to just above my knees as I grabbed the stake off my dresser and hurried out into the hallway. I came to a dead stop in the entry of the kitchen.
Holy granola bars.
Somehow, in my post-coital blissed out mind, I'd forgotten all about my very special roommate.
Ren had Tink pinned to the counter, a kitchen knife at the brownie's throat, and his large hand wrapped around Tink's midsection. A large bowl was on the floor, brown flakes scattered across the tile like a cereal murder scene.
Oh crap.
Tink's wide gaze found mine as he twisted his head to the side. "I wasn't doing anything!"
"You were in her kitchen," Ren snapped, eyes glittering dangerously. "Eating her Frosted Flakes. What in the actual fuck?"
"Uh . . ."
"I always eat her cereal!" Tink flailed his little arms. "And you're naked. You're completely naked!"
Oh my, Ren was completely naked. My gaze dropped to his butt, and good Lord and Mamma Mia, so help me, he had a nice behind. Shapely, firm globes—
Fear for Tink's life snapped me out of it. "What are you doing, Ren?"
He sent me a dubious look. "I was going to make you breakfast, but I found this little freak in your kitchen."
Tink curled his lip. "You were going to make her breakfast while naked? Your junk out and everything?"
Ren's grip on Tink's midsection tightened, and the brownie squeaked like a toy. The whole breakfast thing was kind of sweet and Ren cooking naked was really hot, but I needed to regulate.
"Okay." I placed the stake on the bistro table then reached up, tucking my hair back. "I can explain, Ren, but I need you to let him go."
"You heard the woman," Tink said. "Let me go."
Ren's gaze flew from the brownie to me. "You want me to let this thing go?"
"He's my thing—I mean, he's not a 'thing.' He's a brownie, and he's okay. He's not going to hurt anything. I swear." Walking over to where Ren stood, I ignored the way Tink glared at us. "Please."
"He's a brownie, Ivy. What in the hell is he doing here?" He turned his gaze back to Tink, and the brownie paled since the edge of the knife was still near his throat. "And what do you mean he's yours? I come into the kitchen and he's sitting in a bowl of Frosted Flakes like a walking, talking rat."
"I am not a rat, sir! I am a brownie and damn proud of it, you overgrown—"
"Tink," I warned, then wrapped my hand around Ren's wrist. His emerald gaze flicked to mine. My heart was slamming against my ribs. As upset with Tink as I was, if something happened to him . . .
"His name is Tink?"
I nodded. "Well, that's what I call him."
"Am I high? I've got to be high." He glanced back down at Tink and scowled. "Is he wearing doll pants?"
"What's it to you?" Tink challenged.
Ren's brows flew up.
God, this was so not how I wanted Ren or anyone to find out about Tink. Drawing in a deep breath, I tried again. "I'm sorry. I should've warned you—"
"You should've warned me," Tink muttered crossly. "I'm the one who had to see his dong swinging around—"
"Tink!" I snapped, sending him a glare that let him know I was seconds away from letting Ren do his worst. "Okay. I can explain everything, but I need you to let him go, and you should . . . um, put some pants on."
"I second that," the brownie said under his breath.
Oh my God, Tink had a death wish. "Please, Ren. Tink isn't bad. Brownies aren't bad. I can explain everything. Please, just let me explain."
For a moment, I wasn't sure if Ren was going to listen, but then he flipped the knife in his hand, slamming the sharp end into the cutting board next to Tink. The knife trembled from the impact as Tink flew off the counter, zooming up to the ceiling lamp. The fixture swung as he peered over the edge.
Tink raised his hand and his middle finger.
I sighed.
Ren turned a disbelieving stare on me then stalked out of the kitchen. I'd be lying if I said I didn't get distracted by that ass.
"You got some last night," Tink called from his perch. "You hussy."
I turned my glare on him. "What were you doing? You had to know he was here."
"Oh. I know! I heard him," he yelled back, and my cheeks heated. "I didn't think he'd stay the night. One night stands don't stay the night!"
"Not a one night stand, asshole!" Ren shouted from the hallway.