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"You... know what you're talking about."
That makes me laugh. "You sound surprised. And interested."
Her grin is followed by a sheepish shrug. "I am interested! It's just that in our household, business talk usually revolves around software this and hardware that and bits and bots, so that hearing about something that is real life based, is really interesting to me."
"You want to come work for Watch? You can be our marketing guinea pig; you can tell us if the way we’re targeting our service to people who don't watch dramas is working."
"Would I be on Yin Tech’s payroll or Baxter’s?" she jokes with a wink.
I laugh, a little nervously. If things go my way, Watch will soon be a subsidiary of Baxter Enterprises. So, if I was actually prudent, I wouldn’t be talking about these ideas with her. It's hard to expect her loyalties to lie with me considering Yin blood is coursing through her veins. And business is business.
I take advantage of the pause in the conversation to turn it back on her. "So, you do have any plans for the long-term future? Will your passion project be something other than what you’re doing?"
A sly look in her eye tells me that what she’s thinking of has nothing to do with work. Her finger crooks at me, and she pats the couch. "Come here, I’ll show you that I can have more than one passion project at the same time…."
It doesn't take anything more than that to convince me.
I grab the bowl of strawberries and whipped cream from the tray we'd brought in from the balcony picnic, and sit down next to her. Her mouth opens as I feed one to her, and feel myself hardening at the way she runs her tongue along her lips to lick off the cream.
She's right...this might be the best kind of passion project there is.
twenty-six
Kiara
We spend the rest of the day lounging around on the couch, taking turns reminding each other how much we desire one another.
I would never have expected to want someone so much, but every time I look over at him, whether he's reading a book, watching TV, or looking back at me, I feel a pulse emanating from my core.
Every part of my body is sore... in the absolute best way. He suggested I remove my necklace because it was rubbing up against the raised red imprint of his hand around my neck, but there was no way I was going to do that. Every time I twist my neck, the chain drags against the tender skin and I remember the way he gripped my neck with one hand as he made my body his.
Again, on Sunday morning, I wake entwined with him. His arms, legs, body fold around me, so that I can't tell where he starts and I end. If I even try to move, he pulls me closer, grumbling in his sleep.
I've never been the best sleeper, but with him, sleep comes so easily.
Deeply.
And unbroken.
When I wake, and his breath gently blows against the nape of my neck, I wonder if there's any other place I've been happier in my whole life.
"You're awake," he murmurs, rolling over unto his back and taking me with him, so I can rest my head on his rising and falling chest.
"I've slept more in the last two nights that I have in the last month."
He tries to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully, and rubs the top of his tousled head. "Me, too. I didn't even meditate last night. I'm usually tossing and turning if I don't spend at least half an hour meditating."
"Ohhhm," I say, feeling the sound vibrating inside my chest and onto his.
"Ohhhm," he copies, and then giggles, rubbing his hand over his face and finally opening his eyes.
I'm looking up at him when he does, addicted to the color of his irises. "Good morning."
He lifts his head off the pillow and purses his lips. "Where's my good morning kiss?"
My hands hold him at arm’s length. "You'll get it after I've had my good morning teeth brushing."
"Fuck the teeth brushing, come up here and kiss me like I've just come back from the war, and I've been sending you dirty letters for the last few years."
