Page 118 of Volatile Obsessions

The sight that awaited me was just…

Fuck.

She was in the kitchen, bent over at the waist as she pulled out that pizza she’d been talking about from the oven. The swells of her ass were on display, and maybe it was the macho man in me talking, but something about seeing her so confidently in the kitchen was arousing.

Or perhaps I’m full of shit and it was just her, period.

Setting the pie on a wooden chopping block, she dragged her gaze to where I stood, yanking the oven mitts off her hands. “You don’t happen to be into docuseries types of things, are you?”

“I don’t mind them.” I shoved my hands back into my pockets, shrugging. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve been meaning to watch Drugs Inc. for a while now. Interested to see what all they’ve got in there.”

“I’m down for it.”

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, twirling around to shut off the oven as I ambled toward the breakfast counter separating us.

“Whatcha got?”

“Whiskey, Bourbon, Vodka, Tequila,” she named a few from the built-in liquor cabinet beside the pantry.

“Bourbon, please.” I winked.

“Good choice. Two or three fingers?”

I could ask you the same question…

“Uh, two for now,” I said, tamping down the wayward thoughts trickling through my mind.

“Two it is. If you wanna get the telly turned on, it’s right over there. Remotes are on top of the coffee table. The biggest one is for the T.V. Do you want a slice of pizza, too?”

“I’m good for now. Just get your ass over here already,” I demanded.

An hour later, we were about half way through the second episode, and I was getting fucking antsy. The first one wasn’t so bad—it was actually damn good—but after a quick intermission and another refill to our tumbler’s, I’d about had enough of sitting this far away from her.

It was only a mere sixteen inches that separated us, if that, but it was still too much in my opinion.

Unnecessary and quite useless, really.

The pull was distinctly there, urging us toward one another. I kept it together purely because I swore to her I would, but I could see the way it was starting to wear her down, too.

Every couple of minutes, she’d peer over at me from the corner of her eyes, shifting slightly in her seat. Usually, I’d take that as a green light, an invitation, but this was Lux—Queen of hot and cold—and I wasn’t trying to fuck it up for myself so early in the game.

“Shit,” she hissed suddenly, leaning forward to deposit her tumbler on the table.

My brow lifted curiously. “You okay, there?”

“Fucking dribbled like an invalid,” she muttered, staring down her shirt. “My tits are probably intoxicated.”

And there was the green light.

The blatant green light.

I was on my knees in between her legs in nothing flat. “Allow me to clean that up for you.”

Lux fell back against the couch, eyes wide, breathing unsteady. “You promised you’d—”

“I know, but that was before you deliberately drenched yourself in bourbon.”

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