“Fuck no,” I say, trailing kisses in the crook of her neck. Her little moan in my chest sends me into a spiral, and I need to get up before I devour her for breakfast. I feel her eyes on me as I get up and put on my shirt and sweatpants.
“Is Liam home?” she asks.
“Probably. Why?” I don’t want her to worry about my brother. In her defense, he doesn’t like many people, so she shouldn’t take it personally. Liam often causes me trouble, but he also supports me. He particularly supported me when Dad died and Mom was devastated. Though not likely from his death, but because she could finally live again without that piece of shit in her life.
“Just wondering, he’s been grumpy.” She bites her lip with a tremor of concern.
“Don’t worry about him. Pretend he’s not there.” I turn my head to look back at her. “I’m going to make us breakfast.”
Leaving her makes me feel empty as I head to the kitchen.
I pull out eggs, butter, and gruyere from the fridge and squeeze a few fresh oranges. While my cooking skills aren’t exceptional, being French means I can manage in the kitchen. Where food serves as a necessity to some, it’s a love language to me. Liam doesn’t cook for shit, and that’s because that man is allergic to love — culturally, spiritually, humanly… The guy loves himself and me.
Actually, that’s still up for debate.
I cut a few pieces from a baguette I bought last night. I never come home without a baguette. My mom’s ritual, and I’ll never cease to stop by my favorite bakery on the corner of Louis Blanc. I put some butter on the freshly toasted bread and add gruyere on top of the scrambled eggs.
This stuff makes my heart sing. I’m a simple man, but unfortunately, I don’t have a simple life. Before I think aboutthat detail too hard and give myself a headache, her hands come around me, spreading to my chest.
“Hi,” she whispers into me, and I lean back to see a half-smirk on her beautiful face buried in my shoulder. I gently pull her hips facing me, caging her against the kitchen island.
“Hi.” I chew slowly on a piece of bread. She presses her hand to my jaw,where it ticks against her fingers withevery chew and bite, as I savor the moment with her eyes locked on me, hand-feeding her.
And now I’m hungry for a lot more than organic butter and baguette when her eyes look at me full of lust.
“I love it when you cook.” She smiles, and I take a fork to feed her a bite of the eggs, holding my hand under her chin.
“This is not cooking, and now I might never again.” I clean a little food off the corner of her mouth with my thumb and lick it off.
“You’re already canceling your boyfriend material subscription?” Her eyes smile with a hint of loss at the idea of me not cooking for her. I tsk, swiping my tongue over my teeth.
“No… better. Because you’re my favorite meal, Sara, and how do I top that?” Her smile at that is unforgivingly heart-hammering.
I’m falling. Hard.
My nose brushes her neck, and her skin prickles with goosebumps. My head dips lower as I kiss her softly, all the way to her ear, then nibble my way to her jaw. Her breath hitches in silent spasms, internal moans poised to escape as her gaze locks onto mine, a reaction I’d hoped for as I linger on the corner of her mouth. It’s just a kiss, just a pause and tension towards a yearning for a simple crave of her lips against mine, but it’s so much more.
I’ve craved a few things in my life, and most were to numb, but she lights me up. I step closer, chest to chest, and before I know it, I lose myself in her, within all of her.
With a simple fucking kiss.
Her mouth falls open on a sigh, and I kiss her deeper, softly biting her lower lip, entertaining the idea of a future I want. I forget everything. I forget my circumstances, and before I get too wrapped up, she breaks the kiss, looking over at the oven.
“Shit, it’s almost eleven. My mom called ten times asking me to walk my dogs, and I have to meet the girls at the beach for brunch. Do you want to come?” she asks, and I tower over her, pulling her against me, my fingers digging into her hips.
She lets out a chuckle, probably seeing what I can’t hide when I look back at her; how much I want her, how much I’m actually ready.Damn.
“I have to get some work done with Liam, baby. But come over tonight?” I kiss her forehead.
“Yes, I’ll come over. Text me when you’re home?”
I nod and spank her ass, earning a squeal and a seductive roll of her hips as she walks over to my bedroom, and I can’t keep my eyes off her.
I’m back at the gym by the marina, skipping rope under a strip of purple neon lights. Everyone focused on their attempt to become a better version of themselves, while “Numb/Encore by Jay-Z and Linkin Park,” blasts through the gym.
Liam’s already at the far corner. His dark brown hair plastered to his forehead, sweat tracing the sharp line of his jaw, as his tattooed armsthrow punches at the heavy bag. He’s not subtle. He wants me to know how much stronger he is, how much harder he hits. We’ve been doing this since we were eight, and every time I always fall short with him.
I catch my reflection staring back at me in the mirror.I drag the back of my wrist across my eyes, blinking against the sting of sweat. The fluorescent lights overhead catch the blue of my irises in the mirror, and for a moment they look almost electric, that iridescent quality that Liam and I inherited, but wear differently. On me, it’s warm. Inviting. On him, it’s just another thing that makes people feel vulnerable.
