Pulling her to me, I claim her mouth, brushing my tongue against hers. A low groan rises from my chest as my hands slip beneath her shirt, cupping her breasts and dusting my thumbs across her nipples. Fuck, it was supposed to be a quick kiss. Just to whet the appetite.
There’s no such thing where Kiki is involved, and if I don’t stop now, I’m tearing all her clothes off and sinking into her right here.
Yeah, not a great idea with Theo on the other side of the door.
“I just needed…” I shake my head, leaning in again, capturing her lower lip between my teeth. “One taste.”
A hum of approval escapes her mouth. “Oh, you definitely missed me.”
“What if I did?”
What if I more than missed you?
“I love knowing that fact, but...” Kiki glances toward the door. “Right now, we’ve got a hungry boy and a hungry dog, and you have no business making me hungry too.”
She steps by me, her nails grazing over my cock.
It’s the lightest of touches, and yet, it’s all I need. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You can’t do that.”
She winks over her shoulder, offering me a hip shake. “You started it, mister.”
Then she’s gone back to the kitchen, leaving me alone to gather my thoughts and calm my dick into submission.
Game face, man. No matter how much you crave her, it’s not happening tonight.
When I return to the kitchen, Kiki’s helping Theo wash his hands. As always, she’s so good with him. Effortless.
But everything’s easy with Kiki.
Maybe it’s because we started out as friends, learning each other’s peccadilloes before stepping into something more. Maybe it’s because she’s the most low-maintenance woman I’ve ever met.
But I know both of those reasons are bullshit.
You love her.
Nope. Not going there. Not yet.
But as I join them for pizza, it hits me.
What if I am in love with her?
What if she’s everything I never knew I needed?
Chapter 11
A Beautiful Mess
Kiki
Ipivot in front of the mirror, trying to decide if my hair looks better up or down. Honestly, I should have gotten a haircut, because it’s seriously overgrown. But let’s be real—even though life is far better than it was, I still don’t trust the people around Sparkwood not to butcher my hair, and I’m definitely not brave enough to attempt it myself. Also, while my boyfriend is a very talented contractor, I’m sure as hell not handing him scissors, so this is as good as it gets, folks.
Actually, I look pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. My hair looks healthy and shiny. My cheeks aren’t gaunt hollows anymore, and there’s actual color in them, a soft pink that makes me look less like a Victorian ghost and more like a real live human. Imagine that.
Then there are my clothes. For months, everything in my closet looked like it belonged to someone else. Someone two sizes bigger than me. This was especially true with my favorite pair of jeans, lovingly dubbed my ‘ass jeans’. They were amazing, and shockingly expensive, but worth it. They mademy backside as plump and juicy as a peach, until I decided to forgo eating for 24/7 stress.
Now, the suckers fit the way God and tailors intended.
And, cue the drumroll, my boobs are back. No joke, I fill out my bras again. Hell, they’re damn near overflowing at this point. Not that I’m complaining.
