Page 43 of Killer's Obsession
He stands, completely at ease with his nudity, and I can’t help but admire the view. His body is a work of art—broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, thick thighs, and muscled calves. Almost every inch of his body is decorated in ink.
He grabs a t-shirt from one of the boxes and tosses it to me before pulling on a pair of basketball shorts that hang low onhis hips. I slip the shirt over my head, inhaling his scent on the fabric. It’s enormous on me, hanging to mid-thigh like a dress.
As he turns to grab something from another box, I admire the tattoos spanning his back—tribal designs mixed with what looks like Samoan symbols flowing across his brown skin.
“Ready?” he asks, turning back to me.
I nod, sliding off the bed and wincing slightly at the tenderness between my legs. Killer’s eyes darken as he watches me, a hint of concern crossing his features.
“I’m fine,” I assure him before he can ask. “Just... It’s been a while.”
He makes a sound low in his throat, almost like a growl, and pulls me against him. “I don’t want to know about men before me. They never existed.” He dips his face into the crook of my neck and inhales my scent. “You’re mine now.”
My pussy quivers. I don’t know what it is about his possessive caveman attitude, but it does it for me.
He smirks, then places a chaste kiss on my lips. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get some food in you.”
Taking my hand, he leads me down the stairs. When we reach the kitchen, he lifts me by the waist and sets me on the island counter like I weigh nothing at all. “Up you go.”
“Holy crap!” I hiss when the cold granite makes contact with my bare thighs.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asks, padding over to the refrigerator.
I tilt my head, considering. “Pancakes? Or maybe eggs?”
He opens the fridge door and stands there for a long moment, then curses under his breath.
My eyebrows shoot up. “What’s wrong?”
He steps aside so I can see the empty refrigerator. “We don’t have any food here.”
My eyes flick back and forth from him to the fridge. We shopped for hours, bought a ton of stuff, and spent a lot of money. And yet it never occurred to either of us to stock the refrigerator. For some reason, this strikes me as absolutely hilarious. Throwing my head back, I laugh. And laugh, and laugh. How in the hell could we have forgotten something so basic as groceries?
“You think this is funny?” he asks, a grin tugging at his lips as he prowls toward me.
I nod, still giggling. “We remembered furniture, sheets, curtains... but not food. The thing we need to survive.”
“Priorities,” he says with a shrug, coming to stand between my legs. He places his hands on either side of my hips, caging me in against the counter. “I like hearing you laugh, Pet. You need to do it more.”
I duck my head, suddenly feeling way too seen. “I’m trying.”
“I know,” he says softly, tilting my face up with his finger under my chin. “And you’re doing amazing.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tighten. This man—this big, scary, gentle man—sees me. And somehow, miraculously, he likes what he sees.
“Change of plans, beautiful,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “Let’s get dressed and head into town. How about The Burger Shack?”
I smile. “A greasy cheeseburger would hit the spot right about now.”
My stomach growls again, loudly.
Killer smirks at the sound of my belly agreeing with his plan. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He pecks another kiss on my lips before pulling me off the island and setting me onto my feet in front of him.
We head back upstairs, and I take a quick shower while Killer unpacks some more of our things. The hot water feels divine on my deliciously sore muscles. I find myself humming as I lather up.
When I step out of the bathroom, wrapped in one of the new fluffy towels we just bought, I see that Killer has laid out clothes for me. A pair of my new jean shorts and a white halter top.
I look over at him. “Thank you.”
