Page 107 of Wild Eyes
“Easy, crazy fan.” I slip two fingers into her and make her gasp in shock. “I’m being safe with you. I’m always careful, but let me see the doc this week. You get your pills, then we’ll talk.”
Her legs go limp, and she sighs. She knows I’m right, even though she huffs out, “Buzzkill.”
My fingers pull out and I press a quick kiss to her clit, feeling her knees snap up on either side of my head.
“Okay, one more,” she whines, holding me in place.
“Not a chance.” My hands land on her knees, prying her viselike grip off my head before reaching for my boxers. “You told me you’d die if I made you come again.” Dressed enough, I round the island and head toward the fridge. “And I’d hate for you to die on an empty stomach.”
Her laughter filters toward me. “Death by dick. What a way to go.”
I’m smiling as I reach for the butter and a block of cheddar. “Grilled cheese?”
“Hell yes,” she responds, hopping off the counter. She leaves the kitchen as I work on slicing the cheese and building the sandwich, and when she comes back, she’s wearing my shirt.
My shirt. Her face. Whatever.
She’s also wearing a teasing smile on her lips as she saunters toward me, hair mussed, eyes soft. She glides across the floor, and there’s something familiar about it.
Bare feet and an oversized shirt. Sun streaming through the windows in the middle of the afternoon. Just the two of us. Her arms wrap around me from behind and she rests her head against my back.
We’re in a hazy, happy bubble, and I never want to leave.
She doesn’t let me go until I start to fry the sandwiches, and I’d be a fucking liar if I said I didn’t want her back here, clinging to me.
Instead, she’s propped a shoulder against the fridge while watching me make the most basic meal in the world like I’m a fucking Michelin-starred chef.
“Don’t look so impressed. This isn’t foie gras, Sky.”
She smiles. “It’s better. I don’t think anyone has ever made me a grilled cheese sandwich.”
My eyes dart to her. She’s fixated on the pan. My fallback feast that I make for the kids in a pinch—a few slices of cucumber on the side and we call it a square meal.
“Even as a kid?”
She shrugs. “We had a chef. My mom was always trying out different diets. None of which included butter and melted cheese. I just ate what they ate.”
“That’s a crime. You can make grilled cheese in so many fun ways. Different cheeses. Pickles. Onions. Meat. The options are endless.”
“Perfect. You can just fuck me and feed me grilled cheese for the rest of the weekend.”
It’s my turn to grin now. “Not gonna lie, fancy face. That sounds damn good to me.”
We end up sitting on the kitchen floor facing each other, too bone-tired to even make it to the table—my back against the oven, hers against the island, our feet tangled in the space that separates us as we eat our grilled cheese with a side of cucumber slices.
Somehow, this is better. Cozier. The counters provide walls around us, and I feel like I’m in a private little hideaway with her.
“Tell me about the tattoos.” She gestures to my hand. “You don’t have any others—I can now confirm,” she adds with a saucy wink.
I turn my hand over as I shake my head at her and stare at the spaces between each knuckle marked with a symbol.
“A cow skull on the thumb because the time I took working on a cattle ranch after high school set me straight. Hard to get into trouble when you’re so tired, you can barely drag your ass to bed at night. Learned a lot, but it was like bootcamp.” I smile at the memory. “A pine tree on the pointer finger because Ollie’s middle name is Forest. A fleur-de-lis on the middle finger because Lily is Emmy’s middle name and also because that finger just suits her whole vibe.”
We both laugh and a familiar pang zips through my chest when I realize I won’t see them until next week. I glance back down now, tracing the bare ring finger. “Left this one blank, for obvious reasons.” I peek at Skylar, who nods and chews thoughtfully. “And a sun on the pinky, because, well, I guess I’m an optimist. There’s always a bright side.”
She looks me dead in the eye when she says, “I love that about you.”
I swallow.
