Page 33 of The Butcher

He definitely had edges of arrogance, but he didn’t display them now.

“Adrien helped her clean it up, but I still spotted pieces in corners…and I didn’t say anything.”

“And then you left?”

“Yeah. We talked at the apartment, and I pulled the plug. He accepted it this time—I think.”

“And that was it? Nothing else was said?”

I studied his face, trying to understand why he continued to push the needle. “Should something else have been said?”

He brought the glass to his lips and took a drink. A long one, unnecessarily so. When he set it down, he licked his lips. An answer didn’t seem forthcoming, like he’d somehow forgotten my question. “You made the right decision.”

“I thought you were too biased to give advice?”

He smiled slightly then looked at the glass sitting at the bottom of his fingertips. “In this case, my advice is pretty fucking objective.”

Bastien walked me to the lobby door hidden between the two rows of hedges. There was a mist in the air, visible in the lights outside the buildings, drops of rain so light they floated like snow. “I’ll leave you here.”

I scanned my phone into the computer so the lock on the door released. It was as heavy as the gates to an old keep, something that couldn’t be broken down by a herd of Clydesdales. I looked at him standing in the mist like the cold didn’t bother him at all, didn’t leave bumps on his arms as his body tightened to stop the heat from escaping. “Why?”

That boyish smile moved in that rugged, manly face. “I assumed you needed some time.”

“I do.” There wasn’t a word to accurately describe the way I felt, a mixture of sorrow and unstoppable rage. There was a special kind of anger felt by women who had to leave their lying husbands. Wished I knew what that word was. “But I also want you to stay.” How could I be so heartbroken over one man but so desperate for another? How could I want this man so much that it made me sick when we were apart?

“I’m trying to be a gentleman, but I’ve never been good at it.”

“I don’t want a gentleman,” I said as I continued to hold on to the door. “I want you.”

His smile widened like I’d vanquished his restraint. He moved to the door, and even though it weighed a hundred pounds at least, he opened it like it weighed nothing. We entered the warmth of the lobby and began the walk up the circular staircase, the carpet an olive green with white flowers in the center.

We made it to the top floor, and I scanned the door to get it unlocked. My apartment was quiet and cold because I turned off the heat before I left. The first thing I did was move to the thermostat and turn it up so I wouldn’t freeze during the night.

I was about to drop my jacket over the back of the chair but changed my mind. “I’m so fucking cold.”

“Here.” He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a body so hard it looked like a sculpture rather than living flesh. “It’s a lot warmer than that jacket.”

I hesitated before I dropped the coat, immediately feeling the frigid air attack me like a swarm of needles. When I removed my top and unclasped my bra, my tits were hard and my nipples looked sharper than any of the knives in my kitchen.

He stared straight at my tits. Didn’t try to be discreet because discreet wasn’t his style.

I pulled on his black tee, and just as he’d said, it was as warm as a furnace. My skin immediately bubbled into bumps because it felt like a steaming bath. I stepped out of my boots and left my socks on. My jeans came next. I’d never undressed next to my dining table before.

He moved into me, his big hands sliding underneath my shirt and squeezing my hips, so hot they felt like heated oven mitts.

“You’re so warm.” My arms circled his back, and my cheek rested against his chest. I felt like I was sunbathing on a summer day, soaking in the heat on the pool deck. I’d been frigid just a second ago, but now it felt like I’d stepped into the desert.

His hands scooped over my ass, and he lifted me into him before he carried me into the bedroom. I’d rented the loft at the top because it was cheaper, and it was cheaper because most of the walls slanted in and made it hard to stand upright in most places. It was no place for someone like him, a man taller than the average man, who took up most of the hallway with his bulkiness. That was especially true in the bedroom, but he navigated it effortlessly and rolled me onto the bed, his body acting as a fur blanket and smothering the heat against me.

He pulled the blankets over us before he slid below, yanking my panties off before he pressed his kiss against the warmest part of my body.

I sucked in a breath as I arched my back, the duvet cover at my shoulders to keep me warm, the bison-sized man underneath the sheets so stifling hot, he acted as a heater to warm the entire bed and me with it.

His arms hooked underneath my thighs, and he kissed my lips as hard as he kissed my mouth, with a possessiveness that made me feel like I was his even though I was technically married to someone else.

I moaned in the dark, one hand moving to the headboard behind me, my fingers on the other grasping his short hair beneath the covers. I quickly forgot about the cold when he did incredible things with his mouth, when he kissed me like it was an honor rather than an obligation. I felt it fast, felt the heat roll over the hills and head straight for me. “Wait, stop.”

Instead of ignoring me and doing what he wanted, he moved up my body, kissing my belly that was exposed from his lifted shirt. He tugged the sheets off so he could move over me, his bare back to the ceiling.

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