Page 84 of The Club

As the day has progressed, it’s gotten more sexual.

Hip.

Ass.

Cock.

Now, we’re in the kitchen making dinner. Rafael refused to cut up the chicken, so he’s chopping tomatoes and basil instead. I find it hilarious that he’s squeamish about the chicken when he has no trouble cutting up people.

When I pointed that out, he said it was different because he wasn’t planning on eating them. I don’t get the difference, but okay. I can cut up the chicken.

When I start sauteing it, Rafael comes to stand behind me. His thumbs skim along the waistband of my sweats, hooking inside above my cock.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

I’m surprised that it is. I would’ve thought it would bother me to have a man stand behind me like that, but it doesn’t. Not if that man is Rafael. I don’t even mind anymore when he grabs my ass. Actually, I like it.

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

He nuzzles the back of my neck. “I love how you smell.”

“You do?”

“Mm-hmm. I like how that smells too.”

He means the chicken. One of the small pieces is done, so I lift it out, let it cool down for a second, then I hold it over my shoulder. Rafael takes it from my fingers with his lips.

“Mmm,” he murmurs appreciatively as he chews.

I move the chicken around in the pan, turning a few pieces over. Rafael sighs and relaxes against me.

Fuck, I love this. I have never, ever in my entire life done anything like this. I’m sure it’s totally pathetic, but this may be the best day of my life.

I want this, always. Every fucking day.

“I love that you can cook,” Rafael says.

“I’m just sauteing chicken.”

“You made waffles too.”

“It’s not that hard, baby.”

The word just slips out. Probably because I’m so happy, so relaxed. Rafael’s breath catches. For a second, I’m afraid he’ll draw back, but then his arms tighten around me. His face presses against the back of my neck.

No one has ever held me like this.

No one has ever wanted me like this.

I think about what Rafael said yesterday, how he feels like he’s himself with me, his real self. I’ve been thinking a lot about that. That’s how I feel too. With him.

I know I’m violent. Brutal. Vicious.

But I’m also finding out how much I love taking care of Rafael, being … tender. He can handle the full scope of what I am.

“I have to check the pasta,” I tell him.

He grumbles and doesn’t move.

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