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Why does she put up with that bullshit?
“Thor...” I don’t know if my name is a plea to kiss her, or to leave her alone, but the flush creeping up her neck and settling into her cheeks makes my decision so much easier. Especially when her gaze flickers to my lips. I want to make her feel good. I want to kiss her until she’s not sad anymore, until she feels like the strong, adept woman she is.
Her breathing picks up as I lean into her, aching, desperate to take care of her. That asshole of a sister got in her head. She’s doubting herself, her capabilities... I haven’t known her for long, and I don’t know her all that well, but I know she is capable of doing anything she puts her mind to.
Hell, from the looks of the uncertainty written all over her face, she’s questioning everything, ever.
I want to kiss her until my strong, empowered, fearless seductress comes back to me. Was I pissed that Matty hurt himself on her watch? Sure I was. But I called Mom from the floor of the closet, and she talked me down from a really high ledge. She told me that kids hurt themselves, all the goddamn time. She said she spent most of my freakin’ childhood in a blind panic about what injuries I’d come home with.
She said I made her old before her time. And that if we crucified every parent whose kids had a booboo, there’d be a lot more orphaned kids out there.
She said maybe it was Addison’s fault, maybe it wasn’t, but either way, regardless of what happened, she’d put money on Addison feeling terrible. In my heart of hearts, I know Addison would never do anything to hurt Matty. It might only be day one, but I’ve seen how good she is with him, how patient she is when he’s explaining all of the positions on a hockey team, and every single Snow Pirate that’s ever laced up and skated for the University of Minnesota hockey team.
In all my years on earth, Mom has never been wrong. Okay, fine, she’s been wrong plenty of times but she’s the best parent I know. And hearing her talk about all the shit I got up to when I was eleven years old made me feel much better about the fact that Matty hit his head on the corner of the cabinet.
Plus, if I had a dollar for every time I cracked my head on that damn cupboard... I’d be rich as fuck.
Gliding my fingers over her cheek and down her neck, temptation has my senses on overdrive.
“I work for you, Thor.”
It doesn’t matter. It has never mattered. You’re not supposed to mix business with pleasure, they say it’s a recipe for a disaster. And “they” whomever they are, may not be in this room right now, yelling at me that it’s a bad idea. But it wouldn’t matter even if they were.
Our trajectories were predetermined. From the moment I met Addison, we were on a crash course. And now our orbits have collided, we just have to ride it out and see where it goes.
It’s all new and weird as fuck. Relationships aren’t my jam. And maybe I just need to play with her a few more times and have her see out her role with Matty and that’ll get her out of my system. But something tugging inside my chest suggests that might not be all this is.
She’s special. And she has no idea just how special she is. It doesn’t help that her asshole family puts her down and talks to her like she’s a child. Is her other sister like that?
The more I stare into her puffy green eyes the more my blood boils until something snaps. Wrapping her hair around my fist, I give into the primal urge inside my chest to kiss her. Yanking her head back, I capture her pouty bottom lip between mine, and suck it between my teeth.
Her mewls and moans, the curve of her body as she opens herself up to me, the way her breathing changes at just a bitten lip is inebriating. When I seize her mouth, I devour it, kissing her like it might convince her that she’s not the useless screw up her sister claims she is.
It’s hot, it’s consuming, and it’s unstoppable. Rational thought has left the building, taking with it all notions that this is a bad idea, that this might complicate things with my childcare provider. In this moment, all I want is for this woman to feel good, and I’ll set myself on fire to make it happen if that’s what it takes.
“Are you on birth control?” My question comes out broken between kisses.
She pulls back, a stitch pinching her forehead between her eyebrows. “Yes, but...” She doesn’t need to finish her sentence. My reputation of being a man-whore is fairly earned. But as such, I get tested regularly and always suit up Little Thor when he rides into battle.
I can’t bring myself to leave Addison right now. I can’t take the risk that by the time I go upstairs to get a condom she’ll have changed her mind and gone back into herself. Or even worse, she’ll have left the house entirely.
“I’m clean. I got tested a couple of weeks ago. I use protection.”
She points at me. “Except this time.”
I drop kisses up her neck, squeeze her nipple through her shirt. “I can go upstairs and get a condom if you want.”
She shakes her head, panting as she claws at my shirt. “No, just... Thor just fuck me.”
I love it when women use their dirty words and tell me exactly what they want me to do to them, almost as much as I love doing it to them. “Yes, ma’am.”
Spinning her to face the kitchen window, I kick her ankles apart. “Hold the counter.”
“Th-Thor... your neighbors.”
“What about them?”
“Their kitchen faces this one. Wh-what if someone sees?”
