Page 109 of Mine

“No one ever fought for me before you.”

“I know,” I said, reaching for him, putting my hand on his cheek. “I got pizza. Go wash your face, wake up a little, and come out and eat.”

“I don’t wanna eat,” he said with a sigh, staring at me, at my mouth.

“Yeah, but you need to, come on.” I got off the bed and started for the door.

“You always think you know what’s best.”

“’Cause I do,” I assured him.

He grunted, but he did as I told him.

I had set the table and put a piece of pizza on each plate and poured some Chianti because he liked it. As I moved around the kitchen, I heard him behind me. Turning, I saw immediately that the slumberous look in his eyes had been replaced by something purely predatory.

“I like those brown jeans,” he told me.

“Thanks.” I smiled at him. “What’re you doing?”

He was standing there, leaning against the counter, just watching me.

“Just admiring my stuff,” he replied casually; the mischievous grin was very sexy.

“So I’m your stuff, am I?”

“Yessir.”

“Come sit down.” I chuckled because God, he was cute, and if I didn’t know that he had to be hurting from all the bumps and bruises and scrapes, I would have attacked him.

I was turning off the light over the sink when he walked up behind me and put his hands on my hips.

“You need to eat,” I breathed out.

“Oh, you took that breath.”

“I did not.” I swallowed hard, trying to get myself under control. He had been taken from me and I wanted to feel that he was well and whole, and if I could bury myself in him, hear him cry out my name, I’d know he was as okay as he said he was. Without the physical joining, I wasn’t sure.

“You did,” he insisted, hands sliding up under my T-shirt as I closed my eyes against the onslaught of desire that swept through me. I would not attack my boy; he was too fragile.

“God, Trev, I love the feel of your skin, warm and silky under my hands,” he whispered, “and I love it when you shiver.”

“Lan,” I rasped.

“Yes, love?” he asked as he tugged the T-shirt up over my head, balled it up, and tossed it onto the counter.

“It’s late,” I said without much conviction. “You’re exhausted, and you need to eat.”

He kissed down the side of my neck to my shoulder, then back to my ear, nibbling the lobe as he popped the top button of my jeans and moved to the zipper. “We can eat later.”

My head fell forward as I leaned over the sink. “Jesus, how does this happen so fast?”

“What’s that?”

“You just put your hands on me… it’s amazing.”

“Is it?” he teased me.

“Landry,” I said, trembling under his touch.