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He tilts his head, eyes boring into mine. “You’re so fucking cute when you blush,”
“And you’re very different when you…” I don’t finish the sentence because I’m not entirely sure what this new dynamic is between us.
Going over to his dresser, he wipes his hands and grabs a small jar from the top drawer. He comes back over and pulls the towel from my body, leaving me naked. Although the room is warm, I shiver. He unscrews the lid of the jar and scoops out a little of the contents with his pointer finger before rubbing it into the skin on my shoulder. I twist my head to see another bite mark.
“I broke the skin here,” he says by way of explanation.
“Oh.” I suck on my bottom lip as he rubs the ointment into my skin, his fingers moving carefully over the tender flesh while his dark eyes watch me intently. Xander was right about him; he does seem to enjoy taking care of people after he’s hurt them. But while he did hurt me, the kind of pain he delivers is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced, and I’m open to a whole lot more of it.
ChapterTwenty-Four
LILY
Zeke pats his thigh when I walk into the den after I finish working on my article for the day. “Come here, baby doll.”
Baby doll?He said it earlier in the bathroom, and it had the exact same effect on me then. Why do those two words make my panties wet? Maybe it’s the way he says it, in that deep, commanding growl. Maybe it’s just because it’s Zeke.
Whatever it is, my legs shake as I make my way across the room. As soon as I’m within reach, he grabs my wrist and pulls me onto his lap, wrapping his huge arms around me and burying his face in my hair. He inhales deeply, and I bite my lip to stifle a giggle. I have no idea what happened to Zeke today, but whatever it was, I am so here for it.
When he lifts his head, I stare into his dark eyes, trying to read his thoughts. I fail miserably. “Thank you for making me a delicious lunch,” I whisper. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugs. “It was just a sandwich. Nothing special.”
Just a sandwich, my ass.It was roasted chicken with a little skin still on it, bacon, avocado, and a smidge of homemade mayo on rye—my all-time favorite. “It was to me.”
He gives a subtle shake of his head and rubs his left temple.
My heart rate kicks up a notch. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he says with a half snort, half laugh. “Nothingis wrong.”
I shift on his lap. “I-I don’t understand.”
He bands his arms tighter around me. “It’s…” He sucks on his top lip and stares up at the ceiling for what feels like eternity. “You’re too good to be true, Lily.”
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I can’t work out whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Before I can find my voice to ask, he fills the silence for me.
“Nothing about this… about me… about the way the guys and I are together…” He rubs his temple again and takes a deep breath before continuing. “None of it seems to bother you. At all.”
It’s my turn to frown now. “Well, why would it? You were all open about what this would be. About your dynamic. I knew what I was getting into.”
“Yeah, but there’s a difference between people thinking they’re okay with what we are and actuallybeingokay with it.”
“Well, that might have been your past experience.” I take a chance and place my hand on his cheek. Happiness blooms in my chest when he doesn’t pull away. “But I am okay with it. All of it. Better than okay,” I assure him.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and an image of his mouth on me earlier causes warmth to pool in my core. I clench my legs together, and I guess he doesn’t miss my reaction because the corner of his mouth curls up. He brushes back my hair and trails his teeth over the sensitive skin of my throat. “You were exceptional today, my little buttercup,” he whispers. His hand runs up my legs to my thighs, fingers dusting across the bite marks he left there. I shiver on his lap. “You liked it when I marked you as mine?” He tugs my panties aside.
“Y-yes.” The word leaves my mouth on a desperate moan.
“Does thinking about it make you wet?” he chuckles softly, his hot breath dancing over my skin. I try to squirm, but he holds me still.
“Does it?” he asks again, running a fingertip through my folds. “Or should I just find out for myself?” Flicking my tampon string, he curls his finger around the end and gives a gentle tug that moves it only the slightest fraction but makes me gasp.
“Yes!”
He presses a soft kiss on my collarbone. “Yes what?”
“Yes, it makes me wet.”
