Page 17 of Rub

“Yours,” he moans, and I feel the word in my soul and my heart even as it seems to reverberate through the very air like a thunderclap. “Yours.”

“Yours,” I echo in a hitching gasp as the waves of my climax continue to crash through me.

And then nothing exists except us. Rhythm deserts Kaami, and his thrusts become wild. He throws back his head and roars, and the air shimmers with iridescent light and sound. Reality ceases to exist. The bed vanishes, replaced with pure colour and nothing else. We milk each other’s bodies, touching nothing but each other, joined in an intimacy both carnal and profound. Our breaths mingle, and our heart hammer as one.

A lifetime, an eternity, a storm of intense pleasure later, the colours and light fade, and once again, we’re lying stretched out together on the four-poster bed.

No,mybed. We’re on my bed in my bedroom, the normalcy of life surrounding us as if I didn’t just experience the most incredible, powerful, beautiful moment of my life.

Holy fuck, how am I ever going to recover from this?

Breath ragged and shallow, I look up at Kaami and touch my fingers to his smiling lips. “Umm…”

He chuckles, and his cock—still buried inside me—moves with the gentle sound. “Umm?”

“That…” Before I can tell him just how freaking amazing that was—and seriously, how do I evendothat? I’m a pastry chef who failed high school English. I don’t have the words or vocabulary—someone hammers on my apartment’s door.

Kaami draws motionless, eyes muting to a dark-grey glow.

“Fuck,” I mutter. Maybe we broke something when we came together, and the owners of the tattoo parlour below are pissed. Oh shit, what if someone’s tattoo has been completely fucked up?

There’s more hammering on the door.

“Give me a sec to see what’s going on,” I say, cupping his face in my hands to pull his head down and steal a kiss.

His lips curl against mine, and with a click of his fingers, we’re both dressed and in the kitchen.

The phyllo dough sits on the counter, a neglected ball of flour, water, and olive oil. I throw it a sheepish look. I’ve never not finished making something due to sex.

“The baklava is coming,” I promise, hurrying to the door. Whoever is on the other side bangs again. Impatient much?

“And I will devour it,” Kaami promises back, leaning his hip against the counter, grin playful. “But perhaps after I devour you?”

Yeah, I’m pretty much ready to fuck his brains out again.

“Deal,” I say, opening the door.

“About time!” Jackson Maine complains on the other side, glaring at me.

“Wh…” I frown. “What are you doing here?” I shoot a glance over my shoulder. Kaami still leans against the counter, arms crossed over his broad bare chest. He’s watching us, eyes human and completely unreadable. Damn, he’s gorgeous. And right now, he’s kind of menacing. I turn back to Jackson, frowning again. “How do you even know where I live?”

Jackson slides Kaami a curious—no, change that—acontemptuouslook. “Japher gave me your address.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “He what? That’s?—”

“Yes, yes.” Jackson waves a dismissive hand. “I know. Unprofessional.”

“How ‘bout unethical?” I shoot back. “And illegal?”

“That too.” Jackson shrugs before turning on what is clearly his I-am-a-gift-from-the-gods megawatt smile. “But I’ll give him a pass.”

My eyebrows continue their journey up my forehead. “You’llgive him a pass?”

He reaches out and takes hold of my elbow. “Come on. We’ve got to go.Good Food Australiais waiting to interview us, tointerviewyouin Japher’s Patisserie. I’ve got five minutes to get you there. We’re—you’retheir feature story in next month’s magazine.”

Something tight wraps around my chest, and I stare at him, swallowing the lump in my throat. Holy…Good Food Australiais the most prestigious and influential food media outlet in the country. And they want to interview me?

I…

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