"That's all," she answered. "Like I'm not still seeing stars and remembering what my face feels like."
I glanced down at her with a grin. "Like I said, you're fine. You're just perfect."
"I want to tell you something but it might change your opinion of me," she said. "I need you to prepare for that."
"Unlikely." I brushed her hair over her shoulder, trailed my fingertips down her spine. Nothing could change my opinion of her. "Out with it, sweet thing."
"Okay, okay," she said. "Even though we just had a ton of spaghetti and meatballs the size of Georgia's head and an entire chocolate cake, I could really go for some pizza right now."
As if on command, her stomach sent up a loud gurgle.
"You're probably thinking to yourself, 'Wow. This girl is a bottomless pit,'" she continued. "And that is true but you have to agree this"—she gestured to the sheets ripped clear off the corners of the mattress and the pillows piled on the floor—"was a little athletic. Like a marathon. I basically burned off all that pasta."
"And now you're ready for pizza," I said.
"That's right."
I kissed the top of her head, breathed in the scent of her. This moment right here—us naked and spent, the bed in shambles, the bond between us unbreakable—was only the beginning. There were years and years of this ahead of us.
"You stay here," I said, shifting her head onto the one pillow we hadn't lost in the struggle. I caged her in, my hands on her wrists and my knees tight on her hips. "I'll find my phone and order some pizza. Unless you threw my pants out the window."
"I might've," she said, laughing. "Things got a little rowdy."
I dropped a kiss on her lips. Went back for another. I couldn't imagine how it was possible but I felt my cock stiffening on her thigh.Fuck me. I was mad for this woman. Just fucking gone for her. "I like you rowdy."
She glanced down the length of my body, stared at my cock long enough for it to throb for her, and then smiled, hitting me with the full force of her dimples. As if she required that last inch of my surrender. "I wasn't the only rowdy one."
I tipped my head to the side, offered a small shrug of agreement. "You didn't seem to mind."
She shook her head, pursed her lips together. Peered at me as if she was trying to see me with new eyes. "What do you want, Cal? What do you really, really want?"
I dropped my head between her breasts, scraped my teeth over her skin. "You're all I want, Stella."
"Yeah, you've mentioned something like that before," she said. "You're going to let me up and I'm going to the bathroom. When I get back, we can keep being rowdy and honest and real."
I murmured my agreement, not ready to part ways with her breasts. "I'll order that pizza."
"Let me find my phone," she said, wiggling away from me. I dropped onto the mattress, buried my face in her pillow. "Use my food delivery app. It's easier since my address is plugged in." She took my hand, placed the device in my palm. "Here you go. Make good choices."
"Is this a test?" I asked, shifting away from the pillows. "If I order the wrong thing, will you send me packing?"
She bobbed her head from side to side as she considered this. "I can think of some truly heinous pizza toppings but I know you. I know what you like." She pointed to me. "And you know what I like."
I watched while she pulled on a short, dark green robe with little white pompoms along the edge. The fabric skimmed over her body like an oil slick. "I do," I replied, still captivated by the wide flare of her hips, the luscious curve of her breasts. I wanted to wrap that thin belt around my fist while I fucked her from behind.
Fuck me.
But the truth was, I'd feel this way about every piece of clothing in Stella's closet. I'd see ratty old sweatpants and want to rub her clit through them. I'd see a dress and want to yank it up, sit her on my cock. I'd bite her nipples through thick winter sweaters and slide my fingers up the leg of summer shorts.
"Order wisely." She slipped out of the room, her silky robe fluttering as she went. I stared after her for a moment, too love drunk and cock hungry to do anything else.
And then her phone vibrated in my hands.
It was habit that drove me to look down, read the messages flashing across her screen.
Harry: Hey. Wanted to say hi. I miss your face.
Harry: I want to see you this week. Monday night. Just come by my place when you're off work and we'll hang out.
