Page 28
“Buy one.”
“And a grater. And some proper mixing bowls. And a kettle, Caleb, you don’t even own a kettle.”
“Buy them.”
“And that sofa in the living room is the worst sofa I’ve ever seen in my life. Nobody could possibly sit on it. It’s like a sculpture of a sofa.”
“Buy a new one.”
“And there’s a painting in the hallway that looks like someone sneezed on a canvas.”
“Throw it out.”
I turn on his lap to look at him. “You don’t care?”
“It’s your house now.” He puts the mug down. His hand slides up under the hem of my sweater, very slowly, and spreads around and cups my breast. “Do whatever you want with it.”
“What if I want to paint the dining room yellow?”
“Then it’ll be yellow.”
“What if I want a dog?” I probe.
“We already agreed on the dog.”
“What if I want...”
He doesn’t let me finish. His hand squeezes before it moves and he takes my nipple bteween a finger and his thumb. He tilts my head back with his other hand until I’m looking up at him, and his eyes have gone dark and heavy in a way I’m already starting to recognize.
“Galana,” he says quietly. “What do you want right now? In this kitchen. Not the sofa or the paintings or the dog.”
My breath catches.
Two days ago, I couldn’t have answered that out loud. Two days ago I didn’t even know I was allowed to want things this badly.
“You,” I whisper. “Here.”
His jaw goes tight.
He stands up, with me still in his arms, and sets me down on the cool marble of the island. Right next to the stack of leftover blini. He doesn’t move the plate. He just steps between my knees and puts his hands on either side of me on the counter, caging me in, looking at me like I’m the only thing he’s ever been hungry for.
“Arms up,” he says.
I lift my arms.
He pulls my sweater over my head and drops it on the floor. The air is cold on my skin, but his mouth is warm on my throat. He kisses his way down my collarbone very slowly, so slowly I’m shaking before he even gets halfway.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says against my skin.
“I don’t.”
The air changes and somehow becomes feverish. He is pulling his already hard cock from his sweatpants and pushing into me, pulling my closer to him on the edge of the island.
I’m used to it now, the way he stretches and fills me. The things he says to me.
“I’m going to make you come so hard…” he grunts as he thrusts, and I believe him because he has every single time before. The first time we did this, most of last night and this morning… it’s like he is addicted to it.
And God knows I don’t mind one bit.
