Page 66 of Creatures Like Us
Chapter 18
Noah
“Iwantcookies,”Ashersays first thing in the morning.
I look at him with one eye open. The sunlight is blindingly bright, and dust motes dance in the air.
“Not justacookie, but cookies?”
“Yes,” Asher confirms. “I’m hungry.”
“Seems like your addiction affected your appetite, and now it’s returning.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. Can you make me some, Noah? Pleeease?” He rolls me over and clings to me, squeezing me tight.
I smile into his embrace; how can I not? “Of course. What sort of cookies do you want?”
“Chocolate chip, of course.”
“Okay.” I yawn, blinking sleep out of my eyes, but Asher squeezes my arm impatiently.
“I want them now. Ireallywant them.” He licks his dry lips. “And coffee. Loads of it.”
“All right,” I tell him, but I can’t help but purposefully delay, wanting to know how he’ll react.
“Come on,” he whines. He climbs on top of me, surprisingly swiftly, as if he’s been awake for hours, just waiting for me to drift out of my slumber.
Last night took a lot out of me. Having Asher top me for the first time?…?I still feel the remnants of it—a soreness, as he put it, and I wonder if that part of me is tinged red, like he was.
I stretch indulgently on the bed, and Asher puts his hands on my shoulders and shakes me, like an impatient child.
“Come on. Let’s go, let’s go!”
My smile widens, and I grab hold of the side of his neck and reverse our positions, toppling him onto his back and kissing him breathless. I feel as hungry as he does, but instead of cookies, I’m hungry forhim—his tongue, his cock, his body. Everything about him makes me starved.
“Mmm, stop,” he gasps. “I don’t want to fuck you just yet. I want cookies first.”
“After the cookies, then?”
“Maybe,” he says, eyes glittering. “If they’re good.”
We walk upstairs, wearing nothing but boxer briefs.
“I like you smiling,” Asher says over his shoulder.
“I like you eager.”
“Oh, you just wait.” And he flashes me the most indulgent, innuendo-laced grin I’ve ever seen.
In the kitchen, I uncover Auntie’s old recipe book, even though I hardly need to look at the instructions. We used to make these all the time. The issue emerges with the ingredients, however: I’m short on butter and eggs, so I can’t make as big a batch as I planned. Again, I make a mental note to grocery shop, but leaving the house is the last thing I want to do right now.
Even though it seems like Asher has decided to stay with me, leaving him alone in the house, where I’d have no sense of control over his actions?…?I don’t know. A knot forms in my stomach at the thought.
Sure, he could leave me at any moment—while I’m sleeping, while I’m on the toilet—but for some reason, leaving the house feels like a greater danger than I can handle right now. Things are still so new and tenuous between us. One day, I might trust that he won’t disappear from my life, but not yet.
While Asher brews coffee, I mix the ingredients, roll the batter into balls, and flatten them onto the baking sheet. By the time I insert the pan into the preheated oven, Asher sits on the barstool on the kitchen island, gazing out at the yard with a hot cup of coffee cradled in his hands. The snow has nearly thawed, revealing the yellowed lawn, now covered by a thin layer of frost.
“Mm, that smell,” Asher says. “Brings me back. Our nanny used to make these all the time for Ethan and me.”
