I thank her for calling my mom and cooking for me. I already know it meant a lot to my mother that Katerina reached out to her for help.
“I wanted to do something romantic for you since you’re always doing something romantic for me. You know… just in case we don’t get many more days.” She glances down and away as if the possibility of that is hard for her to swallow.
I tug gently at the apron tie around her waist.
“Katerina?”
“Mm?” she says, turning back toward me.
I lift her chin.
“There is no ‘just in case.’ We’re going to figure this out. For better or worse… remember?”
Her eyes soften. “I remember.”
When I kiss her, she makes this soft little noise, half-surprised, half-hungry… an instant response to me, and it’s over for me. Completely.
I pick her up and set her on the kitchen island. Her legs wrap around my waist, her hands sliding under my shirt. I pull my t-shirt up over my head and discard it on the kitchen floor. Then I reach for the hem of hers and do the same.
We strip each other slowly. Clothes falling to the floor like they don’t matter anymore.
I kiss down her neck, across her shoulder, down her stomach. She moans my name so quietly I nearly groan.
My mouth finds her bare nipple, and I suck down on her as her fingers thread through my hair, pulling me tighter to her.
“Take me to bed, Scottie,” she whispers, breath trembling against my ear.
No words have ever sounded as good as those coming from her.
I lift her off the counter, carrying her toward the bedroom, her forehead pressed to mine, her hands in my hair.
I kick the door shut behind us and lay her naked on my bed. This can’t be the last time I touch her. We’re going to figure this out together. I know how to tolerate pain, but losing her isn’t something I’ll survive.
I settle over her, bracing myself on my forearms, and just look at her for a moment. Her cheeks are flushed, lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. Beautiful doesn’t cover it.
“Are you still sore from last time?” I ask, trailing my hand down her side, needing to know how to move forward with her tonight.
“A little,” she admits, “but I want you, anyway.”
God, this woman.
I kiss her slowly, deeply, while my hand maps the curve of her waist, her hip, her thigh. When I slide my hand between her legs, she’s already wet for me, and I groan against her mouth.
“Always so ready for me,” I murmur, circling her clit with gentle pressure.
She gasps, hips rolling into my touch.
I work her carefully, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. But there’s only pleasure—her eyes fluttering closed, breath catching, little sounds escaping her throat that drive me insane.
When I slide one finger inside her, she’s tight and hot and already clenching around me. I add a second finger slowly, crooking them to find that spot that makes her moan my name.
“Scottie—please—”
She’s not ready yet. Need her wetter. Need her completely gone.
I increase the pressure on her clit while working my fingers deeper, feeling her body respond. Her thighs start trembling, her breathing turns ragged… Perfect.
I withdraw my hand before she gets there, and I reach for the nightstand drawer, fumbling for a condom. My hands are rolling it on in record time.
