Page 159 of Things We Burn

Surely, Kane noted my tensing, but maintained his slow skimming, up my stomach, over the parts that had stretched to accommodate Mabel, to the places where my insides had moved, where my abs had separated.

“I have never desired you more,” he told me, kissing me deeper.

There was no immediate fire, no overwhelming, desperate, animal need. That was there, kindling deeper down. This was a slower build, purposeful.

His palms grazed over my breasts, my nipples peaking at the light touch. I arched upward into his hands as I kissed him back, joyous to be awake in this way, even amidst my exhaustion.

Kane kneaded my breasts before bringing his hands back downward, to where I was wet for him.

“This, here, Chef is all I need,” he rasped, toying with me over my panties. Just as my toes began to curl, Mabel punctuated this by passing gas loudly in her sleep.

Both Kane and I froze, looking toward the bassinet, waiting for the telltale flail of legs and arms to announce she was awake.

But nothing happened.

She snuffled then went back to sleep.

Kane and I looked back at each other and burst out laughing. Muted laughter, of course.

When our eyes met, something passed between us. It wasn’t hot or electric, no inferno of carnal desire. But it was something deeper, simpler yet more profound. A recognition of what we were together, what we had together.

“I think maybe we should go to the bathroom,” I suggested, panting slightly. “I’m not quite ready for us to do that with her right there.”

Kane chuckled again, low and throaty, pushing his erection against my soaked panties.

I gasped.

He didn’t verbally respond to my request.

At once, we were no longer on the bed; we were up, my legs wrapping around Kane’s waist.

Our mouths met as he ambled quietly across the room, me rubbing myself up and down his length, his hand on my ass.

I detached from his lips only long enough to check on Mabel as we passed. Still sound asleep.

Kane grabbed my face, turning it back toward him so he could kiss me again.

We made it to the bathroom, Kane closing the door.

“It turns me on so much how quietly you closed that door,” I breathed against him.

Kane laughed. “So it’s not my muscles, tattoos or general air of danger, it’s my ability to shut doors quietly.”

I smiled against his lips. “At this point in our life, yes. That trumps them all.”

He pinched my ass playfully.

Then he set me on the counter of the bathroom. I gasped at the cold marble on my skin.

“Arch up, Chef,” he ordered.

I did as he asked so he could quickly slide off my panties before stepping between my legs, freeing himself.

His touches in our bed had been slow, unhurried, almost lazy.

Now he was moving much in the same way I ate my food—rushed, trying to get it done before Mabel started crying.

The urgency was strong within me too, knowing Mabel could awaken at any moment, and as desperate I was to connect with Kane, I knew I couldn’t continue through that.

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