Page 74 of Severance

He gets to his knees and leans over, placing his hands on either side of the box. “You said we could discuss your list after pizza.” His eyes, blue and arresting, look right through me.

“I’m not done eating,” I reply with a smile, sending the rest of the slice into my mouth.

“Yes, you are.” He gathers all the napkins and plates together, shuts the pizza box, and sets everything on the floor next to the bed.

I swallow the pizza lump in my throat and try not to panic over my greasy fingers.

Dakota moves closer, pushing me down gently until my back presses into the firm mattress. “You’re stalling, Moonchild,” he whispers against my cheek, and the weight and length of him on top of me feels dangerously pleasant.

“My hands are filthy,” I whimper, trying to keep them off the sheets as his hips grind against mine.

“Are they?” He smirks, grabbing my left wrist.

“Yes.” My voice grows soft. “I don’t want your bed to smell like pepperoni.” He’s right. I’m stalling, because that’s not really what I should be saying, but my brain cells refuse to cooperate.

Dakota brings my hand to his mouth and brushes his tongue from the bottom of my index finger to the very tip. The warmth that pulses through my stomach spreads to the tender, throbbing area between my legs. My heart beats like a little hammer, my muscles turning to liquid.

“It won’t,” he reassures me, and his broad chest expands against mine. His breathing becomes heavier and parts of his body harden as we move fluidly together, my legs and arms entangled with his.

I almost forget there’s still leftover cheese on my fingers when Dakota’s mouth comes down on mine, transforming us into a fervent clash of lips and tongues and a mess of panting and moaning.

We kiss wildly until the pounding of footsteps outside in the hallway reminds us we’re not alone in the apartment.

Dakota playfully groans into the blanket, but I hear a dash of irritation in the sound.

We lie still for a few minutes, listening to slamming and banging in the living room. Our clothes are twisted and our bodies molded into a huge, warm human ball.

“Sorry,” he rasps against my collarbone, his lips still on my skin. “Sometimes my brother can be an inconsiderate asshole.”

“It’s okay.” I laugh a little, wondering if we were too loud and Mikah heard us. My fingers move into Dakota’s hair and I wrap the silky strands around them.

“Didn’t you say you had filthy hands?” he purrs into my chest.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t care?” I giggle at him.

The noise comes into the hallway and grows louder, then disappears into Mikah’s room.

“I don’t. But you need to help me wash this pizza off now.”

I can feel his lips stretching into a smile against my skin, his smoldering breath sliding across my neck, caressing and teasing.

“How about we clean your room first,” I say, gently pushing him to the side. Reluctantly, he rolls to his back and watches me pick up the leftovers of our dinner from the floor, his eyes dark and hooded, hands tucked behind his head.

“You don’t have to do that.” His voice meshes with the music playing in the background. “I’ll take it to the kitchen later.”

“I don’t want to accidentally step on the food. There are people starving…you know,” I say, trying not to sound too patronizing.

“You know you’re too fucking good for me, Moonchild,” he husks, his gaze following me out into the hallway.

I bite back a grin and head to the kitchen to put away our leftovers. The rest of the apartment is dark and has finally grown silent, so I quietly search the cabinets for some storage containers. Then the sound of footsteps behind me catches me off guard when I’m in the middle of rearranging the beers inside the fridge to make room for the food.

I jerk my hand away from the drinks and swivel around to see who it is. Mikah stands next to the kitchen table, shirtless. The annoyance on his face is more than evident. He cocks an eyebrow at me and moves closer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t touch anything…valuable.” There’s panic in my tone and I’m not making any sense because my eyes are too busy trying to avoid looking at him. All that skin makes me uncomfortable. Tats or not, he’s half-naked and I’ve never been this close to a shirtless guy before. Not even Dakota.

Mikah doesn’t respond. He walks over to the fridge and positions himself next to me, trapping me between his body and the door. His hand reaches out for a beer, and the curve of his bicep flashes right in front of my face.

“There’s some pizza and buffalo wings,” I say meekly. “Do you want any?”

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