Page 22 of Psycho

“Something else is getting hot.” I smiled against his lips, mentally begging him to get back into bed with me.

He growled and deepened the kiss, burying one hand in the hair at the back of my neck and holding me there for his attention. Had a man ever kissed me so thoroughly before? I didn’t think so. “Be my good girl, eat your breakfast, and then you can come on my face again.”

I sighed dreamily and looked up at him, I’d do just about whatever he asked of me with that kind of reward. “Fine.” He backed up, and I slid out of bed, pleasantly surprised by the warmth emanating through the flooring. “Ooh, this is nice.” I wiggled my feet on the hardwood floor.

“Yours has it too, didn’t you see the control for it?” He went back to the kitchen, plating food.

“I didn’t know what all of those controls were for.” I shrugged, wrapping my arms around myself and following after him. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Is that why your place is always so cold? And you use blankets like clothing?”

I shrugged again, “How was I supposed to know the heat came out of the floors?”

“Woman.” He groaned and caged me in against the counter, bringing his face right in front of mine. “You. Have. To. Tell. Me. What. You. Need.”

“I. Don’t. Know. How.” I contested, and he pursed his lips.

“You did last night.” He cocked his head to the side, “You needed me to keep you safe from the storm and you called me. And I rewarded you for it.”

“Hmm.” I uttered. “Technically, I only called to see if you were sleeping through the thunder.” I shrugged. “Then you got all bossy and made me come sleep with you.”

“Made you?” He sat back on his heels and crossed his arms, “Did I make you beg to come too?”

Now it was my turn to cross my arms, “Technically, yes.”

He grunted and ushered me out of the kitchen. “Go sit down to eat so I can do it again.”

“Mmh.” I moaned with extra flare and glanced over my shoulder as he followed my path with his eyes glued to my ass.

“How’s the nausea?” He asked after a minute, “Anything not sound appealing?”

“I feel good, still.” At his small table, I sat down and tucked my feet under me. “I don’t want to jinx myself, but I think I’m over the worst of it.”

“Does that mean I can throw out the four jars of pickles I bought yesterday?” He asked, carrying over the plates.

I aimed my fork at him and tried to give him my best intimidating stare, “Not if you want to live.”

“Thought so.” He sat down across from me and picked up a cup of coffee and watched me as I started cutting into the pancakes and eggs he made.

“What?” I paused, with a bite halfway to my mouth.

“Eat, and then we’ll talk.” But he didn’t make any move to eat his own food.

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to like the conversation you choose?” I quickly took the bite off the fork, because if I was right, I wanted to enjoy my meal before he ruined it.

He shrugged and forked a bite of eggs to eat.

“Because you won’t, but I think it’s necessary.”

“Well then,” I stabbed a giant piece of pancake and shoved it into my mouth. “Talk about something else for now. Talk about what the souvenir was last night.”

He sat back in his chair with a grin. “There were three souvenirs last night.”

My eyebrows rose as I took another bite. “Busy man.”

“They’re in the fridge.”

I swallowed the bite of eggs that now tasted like fingernails and washed it down with some water. “What is in the fridge, exactly?”

---