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“No. I search for one that has a seven in it.”
“That makes no fucking sense. You’d be waiting there longer than you have to.”
I shrug. “So?”
He shook his head and swivelled so he faced me. Spreading his legs, he reached for my stool and pulled me closer. “You do the strangest fucking things, woman.”
I lifted my legs so I could wrap them around him. “Pull me closer.” Once he had me right next to him, I put my legs around him and rested my feet on the stool behind him. I then placed my hands on his chest. “What things do I do that are strange?”
He rested his hands on my legs. “Lucky fucking numbers for one, but let’s list this shit out. You watch Elvis movies like they’re going out of fucking fashion, you have bows everywhere on your bags, bracelets, shoes, and underwear, you eat chips with chocolate, you eat fries with ice cream, you read five books at once, you have hard rules around what butter and cheese you will buy, you insist on fucking texting me all the time, you insist on sleeping with the fan on every fucking night, you don’t like your food touching other food on your plate, your cookbooks have to be in alphabetical order.” He paused, arching his brows. “I could go on.”
“Don’t knock my bows! You seemed to like them on my panties.”
“I fucking like anything to do with your panties. I’d like it a hell of a lot more if you never wore them again, though.”
“I bet you would,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss him.
The kiss started out slow, but quickly worked its way to being one of King’s demanding kisses. By the time he let my lips go, he had a hand inside my bra. Stroking my nipple, he said, “How long do we have before dinner is ready?”
“You’re seriously going to stop whatever you have in mind just so we can eat?”
His eyes flashed with heat. “Once I get started with you, we won’t be stopping for dinner. I’m also not giving up anything you’ve cooked, so yeah, how fucking long before dinner is ready?”
I grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him long and hard again. Pulling away breathlessly, I said, “It’s ready.”
“Fucking hell, woman, why didn’t you just say that?”
I grinned. “Because I like to work you up a little.”
He smacked the side of my thigh. “Yeah, I’ve fucking worked that shit out.” Attempting to pull my legs from around him, he added, “Get your ass up and serve me my food.”
I gripped his hips with my legs, refusing to move. “Oh really, Mr Caveman? You seriously think I’ll respond to that shit?”
He curled his hand around my neck and pulled my face to his. Against my ear, he growled, “The longer you fucking sit here arguing, the longer till I get inside you. And I’ve been thinking of nothing but that today, so stop fucking arguing with me.”
I stopped arguing with him. I mean, I didn’t care that he went all caveman on me. I just liked to push him to see how demanding he’d get, because that shit turned me on.
As I served up our dinner, he sat on the stool watching me intently. King was always watching, always taking note. He’d proved that when he rattled off his list of strange things he’d observed about me. I loved that he already knew those things, but what I really loved was knowing he paid attention.
I passed our plates to him and said, “We didn’t finish your five things. I still have a few questions.”
With his gaze firmly locked to mine, he said, “We have dinner. Then we have my time with your pussy. Then we have sleep. Maybe after that, we have five fucking questions, but don’t fucking count on it, because the way I’m feeling, I’m gonna need a whole lotta time with your pussy.”
I sat next to him and picked up my fork. “I really like your place.”
His eyes found mine. “I like it now you’re here.”
Butterflies. Tummy.
God, this man.
After that, we ate. Then he did all those things he said he would. We never did get to five fucking questions again, but I’d make sure we played that game a lot in the future.
27
King
Lily: How do you feel about cream as a colour?
