Page 12 of Rub

And with that, he drops himself onto the sofa in amongst the cushions and crosses his ankles on the coffee table.

Huh, when did change his clothes? In the last click?

Instead of the jeans, Doc Martens, and snug blue T-shirt, he’s once again wearing the loose and baggy black pants he wore when he first appeared in the alley, along with a loose black buttonless vest and black…

“Are those slippers?” I smile, pointing at his feet.

He lifts one leg—and damn, the way his abs coil and flex when he does—and looks at the snug black woven shoe on his foot. “These are Giveh.”

“They look comforta?—”

He clicks.

“—ble,” I finish as a pale-mint-green pair encase my feet. I look down at them, wriggling my toes. “And they are.” I laugh. “You could put Converse out of business.”

“You like?” he asks, and that same vulnerability whispers through his voice.

“I do.” Seriously. They really are comfortable.

He nods. “A gift.”

“Not a wish?” How the hell had I forgotten about the three wishes? Well, two wishes now. Though even if the Giveharemy second wish, I’m not complaining. Only a moron would complain about the most comfortable pair of shoes they’ve ever worn.

He rises from the sofa, eyes glowing, and closes the small distance between us. “A gift. Because you bring me joy and laughter and fun.”

A thick lump fills my throat, and I swallow, gazing up at him. “Thank you.”

He dips his head, a single nod, and touches my pulse. “You’re welcome, master.”

“Al,” I correct on a breath.

His stare holds mine. “Al.”

We stand motionless for a heartbeat, like statues cut from marble. My body aches for something on a level I’ve never experienced before. My lips part, and his gaze drops to them, his eyes glowing brighter.

Kiss me. I wish for you to kiss me. I wish for you to f?—

“Savoury or sweet?” I burst out, staggering back a step. My arse bumps into the small breakfast bench that juts out from my just-as-small kitchen, and I grip it like it’s a freaking life buoy.

Kaami’s eyes return to their normal storm-cloud grey, and he frowns, confusion etching his face. “Savoury or sweet?”

“I want to bake for you, Kaami.” A smile stretches my lips as a warmth flows into my chest. I’ve never said those words to anyone before. Ever. The closest was with Dad when I wanted to practice a particularly tricky macaron or éclair recipe, but this…is different. Baking fills my heart with joy, and I want to share that joy with Kaami. “What would you like?”

A stillness falls over him. “You want to givemesomething?”

“I do.”

His gaze goes to the pulse in my neck, and my breath catches. “I am honoured, mas— Al. Whatever you make, I will devour.”

Would you devour me? “How ‘bout baklava?” I say, pressing my arse harder to the breakfast counter’s edge. If I don’t, I’ll climb him like a freaking tree.

He arches an eyebrow. “I love baklava.”

I chuckle and point to the sofa. “You’ve never had baklava like mine. Now sit.”

His dimple creases his right cheek, and he bows deeply. “As you command, oh powerful one.”

I snort and hurry into the kitchen, yanking open my pantry. “Yeah, yeah, just remember that.”

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