“What’s in the bag, Cupcake?” I ask, taking the covered plate of lasagna and walking it to the kitchen. I stick it in the fridge before turning and grabbing her face with both hands and kissing her hello properly and deeply.
“Uh…hi,” she whispers, reaching up to grasp my wrists lightly for connection.
“Hello,” I answer, tracing her jawline with my thumbs.
“I still can’t think with all that skin and just your sweats,” she answers, so cutely flustered; I peck her again.
“Thank you for the food. It’ll make a great lunch tomorrow.”
“What’d you have for dinner?” she asks curiously, and I let go of her to stand straight and take the bag from her shoulder.
“A turkey sandwich. You still didn’t answer my question.”
“You asked a question?”
“Do the grey sweats really do it for you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Noted. Especially if I for some reason piss you off.”
“Not fair.”
“Totally fair. No different than flashing your tits mid-argument.”
She laughs, and it’s the best sound in the world.
“I’ll remember that as well.”
I lift the bag up and down. It’s got enough things in it to be an overnighter.
“What’s in the bag?”
She flushes.
“I don’t want to be presumptuous.”
“By all means, if it’s what I think it is, presume away, Sweetheart.”
“May I stay?”
Reaching back into the fridge, I grab two bottles of water and turn off the kitchen light before bending down to whisper next to her ear. “You’ll never hear a ‘no’ when it comes to you curled up in my bed.”
She melts into the touch of my arm brushing against her. I nudge her, indicating for her to follow me. Setting her bag on the master bathroom counter, I flick on the overhead mirror light and walk back into the darkened bedroom where she stands.
“Make yourself at home. I know it’s not as big as your place–”
“Jax?” she asks, cutting my words off.
“Hmmm?” I ask, turning and noticing her unbuttoning her shirt. My body thrums alive–not that I wasn’t already imagining her naked body writhing beneath mine, but seeing her start without me…
“Shut up and kiss me.”
I flick on the lamp next to the bed, half-tempted to comment on the bratty ‘shut up’, but I sense we’re not really playing right now. At least not the way we played the other night. Walking over to her, I run a finger from her navel to the hollow of her throat, smirking with how pretty she is. Tipping up her chin with my finger, I bend, stopping my lips a hairsbreadth away from kissing hers.
“Do you want me?”
“Jax–”
