Page 32 of A Love That Broke Us
Chapter Eleven
ALLEY
THEN—FOUR AND A HALF YEARS AGO
MARCH
We haulthe last of the boxes into the apartment. I set mine down on the kitchen table and lean against it, trying to catch my breath.God, I’m winded.
I inhale slowly, blinking as stars flash behind my eyes, a pounding starting to build in my head.
“Babe, you okay?” Jensen asks, his brows knitting together. “You look a little flushed.”
I wince. “Agh, I’m not feeling great.”
“Really? What’s going on?” He crosses the kitchen toward me, concern etched across his face.
I press my palm to my forehead. “I don’t know. I just… I feel like I’m gonna pass out all of a sudden. And my head’s pounding. Feels like I’m getting the flu or something.”
Jensen wraps his arms around me, and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Why don’t you go lie down?”
“Because this is all my shit.”
I’m officially moving in today, even though I’ve practicallylived here for the past three months. Jensen asked me to move in a few weeks ago, and my lease is up, so I finally made the leap. I sold off most of my furniture, and Jensen did the same. It was his idea to get new stuff that reflected both our tastes. Not many men in their thirties would be willing to ditch their manly decor, let a woman move into their space and take over—I know how lucky I am.
“Leave it. I got it, babe.”
“But… you won’t know where to put my things.”
He chuckles softly. He knows what an organized control freak I am.
He kisses my forehead, amusement dancing in his eyes. “How about this? You lay on the couch and tell me where everything goes. And when we get to the bedroom boxes, you can order me around some more.” A grin spreads across his face. “I’ll even let you boss me around in bed later while you’re being a pillow princess.”
I try not to laugh, but it’s hopeless.
“Seriously, babe. I got this.”
“Really? You swear you don’t care? I feel bad.”
“I swear. The hard part’s done, we got all the shit here. This part’s easy.” He grabs my hands and tugs me toward the couch. “Plus, I can’t wait until you fall asleep so I can fuck everything up.”
I laugh again and my hand flies to my forehead. “Ow. Stop making me laugh. It hurts.”
His warm lips meet mine.
I push against him, weakly. “You don’t want to kiss me. You’re gonna get sick.”
He replies by crushing his mouth to mine, firmer this time, slipping in some tongue. Then he pulls back, his lips hovering over mine. “Don’t tell me what I want,” he whispers, then nips at my bottom lip. “And if I get sick? I get sick.”
He kisses me again, slower this time, taking his time. A half smile breaks across his face, one dimple popping as he finally releases me from the hot torment of his mouth—a mouth that makes me wish I felt better, just to finish what he’s starting.
He meets my gaze. “Worth it,” he says, voice husky. “Now lie down and rest. That’s an order.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought I was supposed to be giving the orders.”
He laughs as I lie down on the couch, then grabs a nearby blanket and tucks it around me.
“Now,” he says once I’m settled, “what do you need? Ibuprofen? Tylenol? Whiskey? An orgasm? Your wish is my command.”
