Stray Cat Strut by Sierra Dafoe

The world, according to Persia:

1. In the battle of the sexes, Persia always wins.
2. When in doubt of the outcome, see Rule #1.

Furious that Tori took the man she wanted, Persia is determined to find a beau who’ll turn both Tori and Lu absolutely green with envy. But finding a man who can outshine Drake Foster is no small task -- he’d have to be handsome, suave, sexy, adorable, romantic, powerful and rich…

In the meantime, there’s Billy Gruff -- young, blond, and absolutely gorgeous. A perfect consolation for her wounded pride. And when Billy takes her home to meet his brothers, Persia finds herself with an overabundance of mouthwatering choices.

Billy is just as sweet and luscious as any girl could ever want. His brother Alec may think he’s bad, but Persia knows exactly how to get his goat -- and nobody, but nobody ties this keyboard-playing kitty down!

But when big brother Ben appears on the scene, Persia discovers to her chagrin that she’s well and truly fucked. Or at least, she’s about to be…

When in doubt of the outcome, see Rule #1. Welcome to the world of Persia.

~ * ~

As soon as he opened the apartment door, Persia’s nose wrinkled. The place smelled nothing like Billy’s clean, tangy scent -- it smelled of cleansers, potpourri and air fresheners. In other words, of female.

She narrowed her eyes, looking about suspiciously. From her vantage point on his shoulders, she could see the neatly arrayed tins on the kitchen counter, ranked according to size, the ceramic knick-knacks spaced along the mantel with an almost military precision, the ironing board jutting like an accusation in front of the TV.

And she could feel the way Billy’s shoulders tensed beneath her as he practically tiptoed into the apartment.

“Han? Hannah, honey?”

Persia snorted to herself. Honey? Not this woman, whoever she was. For all its color, the place still managed to look cold and forbidding. They both breathed a sigh of relief when Billy’s soft query brought no answer.

He picked up a note from the counter. Tilting her head, Persia scanned it.

Gone for coffee. Back by nine. Put your goddamn laundry in the hamper this time.

Yeah. Quite the love note.

Billy sighed and, wadding up the note, chucked it at the trash can. He missed. Shrugging, he lifted Persia off his shoulders and set her on the couch. “All right, cat. I gotta take a shower. Don’t make yourself too much at home, okay?”

Not hardly. This wouldn’t do, at all! Only what was she going to do now?

The question faded from her mind, though, as Billy peeled off his shirt, leaving it draped over the back of the couch as he ambled toward the bedroom. Persia promptly followed.

Oh, yeah. Muscles rippled beneath his tawny skin, leading from those warm, solid shoulders down his back to where his work pants hung loose around his lean hips. Jumping onto the bed, she watched eagerly as she kneaded the coverlet, purring.

He sat beside her to pull off his sneakers (dropping his dirty socks, Persia noticed, onto the floor where they lay like two deflated cotton balloons) and then unbuttoned his pants and stood.

He wasn’t particularly tall, actually, only five-ten or so. But he was built like a young god -- all warm, flowing muscle and soft, velvety skin. His shaggy, honey-blond hair hung in his face as he bent to slide his pants off, revealing a gorgeous ass encased in white cotton briefs.

Da-yum!

She arched her back in sensual delight, feeling horniness pulse along her frame. Jumping back down, she twined around his feet, rubbing herself against those luscious bronzed calves. Billy reached down to stroke her, and she purred in delight at the feel of those strong, work-roughened fingers sliding through her fur.

Hell with Hannah, whoever she was. This tasty little morsel was hers.

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