Page 207

“You are all talk.”

“Yeah?” He turns back to the sink and picks up a fork. “Ask me again upstairs.”

I wipe a part of the island I have already wiped.

I set the cloth beside the sink. “Leave them.”

“There are two forks.”

“Colt.”

“Yes, Nilsson?”

I step into him, put my hand at the back of his neck, and say, “This.”

He kisses me before I have to say more.

The first kiss stays slow. His mouth moves over mine, warm and familiar, and I taste the mint he took after dinner because Tova told him the onions were following him. I laugh against his mouth. He pulls back to ask, and I kiss him before he gets the chance. His hands settle at my waist and wait until I move closer before one slides beneath my shirt.

My skin tightens under his palm.

“Bedroom,” I say, and he follows me upstairs.

The lamp is already on when I pull my shirt over my head. Colt closes the door and comes toward me, but I stop him with two fingers against his chest.

“Slow.”

“I’m listening.”

“I know.”

I unbutton his shirt myself. His right shoulder is warm beneath my hand when I slide the fabric from his left side first and ease it from the right. I kiss below his collarbone and feel his breath change.

“Nilsson.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

His laugh is low.

“Answer,” I say.

“I want you.”

His fingers catch the waistband of my pants. “Can I?”

“Yes.”

He pushes them down my hips, taking my underwear with them, and his mouth finds my breast before I have both feet free. My hand goes into his hair when his tongue circles my nipple.

“Fuck.”

“Good?”

“Yes.”