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My eyes met his as the worries I woke up with started knocking around the inside of my skull.You might if you knew about Oskar.“What if you do?” I whispered.
I braced myself for his frustration, maybe even anger that I would doubt him. None of those things shone in the warmth of his eyes. All I saw was patience.
Patience was sexy. It was also something no one had ever given me before.
“I won’t.” He leaned up, brushing his lips over mine. “Not ever. It’s you and me now, angel. For always.”
“For always,” I echoed.
He brushed another kiss across my lips, his wild hair poking into my eyes. I palmed his ears, pulling him back in to deepen the kiss. His groan mingled with the rich scent of coffee and his shampoo. Tentatively, I swiped the tip of my tongue at the seam of his mouth, and he opened with a groan.
His hands cupped my face again, the rubber making a weird squeak sound against my cheek.
Grimacing, I jerked back. “Why are your hands sticky?”
“My bad,” Win said, pulling them away.
Reaching up, I dabbed at the residue he left behind and made a face. “Disgusting.”
He made a sound and grabbed up the espresso, holding it out for me to take. “You need this.”
I took it, the warmth of the brew seeping into my fingers from the cup. I lifted it to my lips for a small sip, peering at him over the rim. After a sip—okay, two—I lowered it just enough to speak, my tongue swiping any extra left on my lips. “You have my favorite coffee.”
“I couldn’t live in a place where I didn’t have something you loved.”
“You didn’t need coffee for that,” I told him, stomach flip-flopping.
His brows drew together.
“Because you’re here.”
He made a sound and rushed me again.
I drew back, bumping my head on the cabinet, and held up the coffee like a shield. “Winston Sinclair!” I demanded. “Do not touch me with those sticky, latex-covered hands.”
Win held them up like he was being arrested, spreading all his fingers wide. “But, angel.”
“I’m not kink-shaming or anything, but maybe you two could take it to the bedroom?” Max drawled, stepping into the dining room. “I mean, we have to eat in here.”
Win spun around, hot-pink hands still raised like he was surrendering. Wes stepped off the stairs, his eyes widening when he took in the scene.
Max covered his eyes. “Don’t look, Nemo. You’ll go blind.” He grimaced. “Or get weird kinky ideas about pink rubber gloves.”
Wes made a choked sound.
“Fuck off, Max,” Win said with a laugh and dropped his hands. “I was cleaning out the fridge.”
“Didn’t you already do that?” Wes asked, pushing Max’s hands off his eyes to come into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee.
“Everything else except the fridge.”
“Did you throw all the food away?” Wes huffed. “I’m starving.”
“There’s stuff for breakfast. I went to the store this morning,” Win answered.
I choked on the last bit of my espresso. “You’ve been to the store too?”
Win glanced around to wink. “I had to get you breakfast, angel.”
