Such a good woman who caught the attention of a killer. It is what it is, and while something unpleasant strikes me, I dismiss it.
I want her. And I will get her. The how is irrelevant. In my world, I am untouchable.
“Don’t be,mo run. Be worried for anyone else, but not me.” I kiss the top of her head and resume stroking her back.
Her slow inhale and exhale deepen, and I continue caressing her until my eyes close.
I focus just on my hands gliding up and down her soft skin, my fingertips warming along her hot body. Touching her eases me enough that my demons retreat.
The cure for all my ailments.
No wonder I wake up feeling invigorated. She is adept at making me sleep so deeply that I don’t sense her when she leaves my bed. My woman has perfected turning into a silent mouse—stealthy whenever she has or wants to be.
Groaning low in my throat, I search for her, finding her in the kitchen, making pancakes. It became a weekly tradition, one I am keen to preserve.
Leaning against the doorframe, I watch as she sways her hips to the music playing from the walls and flips the pancakes. She appears so unperturbed right now.
I don’t know how long I just gaze at her. Enough to realize that what I feel for her goes beyond madness and straight into obsession. Enough to know that I will never let her go, regardless of the implications.
“How long are you going to keep watching me?” she asks, smiling under her breath as she stacks the pancakes.
“Until I get my fill.” I doubt that will ever happen. A lifetime doesn’t seem enough. Not even forever comes close.
She tilts her head, eyeing me from the side, and bites her lip. “Is that so?” Her sweet voice ends on a seductive rasp.
“You minx.” I shake my head at her and erase the distance between us in three strides. Grabbing her waist, I push her up onto the counter, a whoosh of air escaping her mouth.
There’s not an inch of space between us. That’s all she needs for her eyes to glaze over. Her body is primed and ready, just like my cock is eager. But first, I want our emotional connection firmly locked in place. I am not afraid of her body melting into my arms, but of her heart, thinking if I am not rooted deep enough, she could yank me out.
Brushing my nose along her neck, a tremor rocks her. Affecting her affects me, and I grip the edge of the counter, restraining myself not to take her. Soon, but it feels like a damn eternity.
“Keep playing games with me. I will take it out on your body.”
“Promise?”
I throw my head back and laugh so wholeheartedly that I didn’t even think I could produce these sounds. She’s a wondrous delight.
Palming my chest, she murmurs as if talking to my heart. “I don’t want this to end.”
I cradle her face, kissing her forehead. “It won’t.”
At the table, we eat the sweet and savory pancakes, and she says, “I don’t know if I can make it next weekend.”
“It’s out of the question.”
“Tristan,” she tries, but I remain vehement.
“Your weekends are mine,” I say, brooking no argument.
She sighs. “I?—”
“No discussion.”
“Tr—”
I cut her off, casting her an intent look. “I didn’t stutter, did I?”
“Fine, I’m telling Evie then.”
