Page 34 of Things We Burn

My chair screeched as he snatched me from it. I was straddling him in a couple of heartbeats. He was already hard.

“You’re addicting, Chef,” he murmured, lips brushing mine. “And I’m not at all mad about that.”

Then he kissed me. Hungry, claiming, without reservation.

I kissed him back with the same fervor, grinding against him.

He stood without obvious effort, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his hips. Never breaking the kiss, he walked us through my apartment.

“Though I plan on fucking you on every surface of this apartment, I think we’ll be conventional and start with the bed,” he growled against my mouth. “My woman’s had a long day, and she needs comfort. And multiple orgasms.”

“I should shower,” I gasped as he threw me down on the bed. “I’ve been working all day.”

The past few nights, I hadn’t thought about the reality of sleeping with Kane after such long days, but I was suddenly self-conscious. He didn’t shy away from oral sex, from inhaling my scent, and surely it couldn’t be … pleasant.

“We’ll shower.” Kane bared his teeth. “Together.” He leaned over to take off my pants then inhaled me over my panties. “But I like this smell. Fucking love it. I’ll show you just how much.”

And he did.

Then we showered.

And it wasn’t until I was just falling asleep in his arms when I realized he’d referred to me as ‘his woman.’

Six

A bangingon the door filtered through my unconscious brain.

I was warm. Comfortably toasty. Encased in Kane’s arms, as I had been the entire night. His grip didn’t even relax in his sleep; he held me tight to him although I could feel that he was still asleep by the even cadence of his breath. How he was sleeping through the banging, I didn’t know. Then again, if he lived in New York for any extended period of time, he was likely used to loud and strange noises at any point of the night. I also had the inkling that Kane didn’t live a quiet life in general, therefore, he was used to noise.

I didn’t exactly live a quiet life either, but as a rule, I slept lightly. That rule was challenged these past nights with Kane, as I’d slept deeper than I had in recorded memory. Of course, that also could’ve been because he had fucked me into sheer exhaustion.

The banging didn’t let up, nor did Kane rouse.

“I know you’re in there; I tracked your phone!” a voice boomed throughout the two rooms of my apartment, coming through the front door. A familiar voice.

I sighed, knowing she’d never let up.

I carefully pulled myself out of Kane’s arms. He tensed for a split second before making a sleepy groan and turning over to push his face into the pillow.

Though there was the urgency of the banging and the yelling, I couldn’t help but take a beat to admire Kane. He was now splayed on my bed, his large body taking up the entire surface. His hair brushed over his face, features completely and utterly relaxed. The sheet barely covered his naked body, exposing the muscular skin of his arms and torso, peppered with both scars and tattoos. His tattoos were haphazard, chaotic without rhythm or sense, different styles, different vibes, different messages.

There was an intricate image of a man riding a bull in exquisite detail, a crudely drawn knight holding a sword, a snake eating its own tail, a straight razor dripping with blood. A motorcycle. Just to name a few.

It should’ve looked messy and incoherent, but it only made him all the more impressive and wild. He’d told me about some of them, the cruder ones were from bets he lost. Which showed who Kane was. He’d put ink on his skin for life because he lost a bet.

I felt a stab of envy toward him in that moment, the freedom he must enjoy, feasting on life. I felt a stab of envy toward whomever was going to end up with him. It surely wasn’t going to be me. This …thing, whatever we were, was going to be short-lived. We were much too different to survive beyond the wild sex and pasta at two a.m. phase. I had to remember that Kane was a man who obviously jumped into experiences with both feet, and those experiences burned bright and hot, but something—someone—would come around to capture his attention again.

I jerked as the pounding intensified in tempo and volume. With a pit in my stomach, I snatched Kane’s tee from its spot on the floor, throwing it on before running out the door of mybedroom, already realizing that soon, Kane’s presence in my bed and in my life would be nothing but a memory.

“You fuckingbitch!” Kiera shrieked when I opened the door.

Kiera was known to be enthusiastic, but she’d never cursed at me at six in the morning. And she was never known for a visit at six in the morning unless she’d been on a bender the night before and was craving shakshuka.

She looked sober and pissed off. And incredibly put together for the early hour. Her red bob was straight and glossy, her delicate face covered in expertly applied makeup as usual. She was wearing a pantsuit with no shirt underneath and sky-high heels. Unsurprising for Kiera—she lived in heels. I didn’t know how she did it. Why she was this dressed up this early in the morning was anyone’s guess. She might not have made it home from the night before.

“Do you not reply to texts or phone calls at all anymore?” she snapped, hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “I’ve been busy.”

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