Page 60 of The Butcher's Wife
Annetta, wearing a light blue apron with handfuls of flour dusted across the front, and her honey blonde hair swinging in a ponytail, turns to greet me. Unfiltered delight at seeing me—me—spreads across her face and violently cracks into my heart. The future lines up before me like a stack of dominoes. This—what ifthiscould be what I come home to every night? A beautiful woman, home-cooked meals, and smiles? For the first time in my life, I realize I’ve been missing out on something big.
“Annetta,” I say, stopping only a few footsteps from her.
She sucks in a breath, looking up at me with longing. “Yes?”
There’s a thin line of green through her brown eyes that I’ve never noticed before, though it’s swallowed by her pupils the longer I stare.
“Dom.” She reaches forward with her mom’s engagement ring still faithfully worn on her left hand and touches my arm.
“There was a hitman.” My voice is lower, softer than normal. Her eyes widen, and I can’t tell if it’s in reaction to what I said or the clear desire in my voice. Holding back my hunger for her feels like trying to contain a river behind a leaky dam, and after almost losing heragain, I don’t want to. “I came to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” she says, cupping her hand along my forearm. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do shit.” I can’t believe I wasn’t here to stop her would-be attacker. That’s supposed to bemyjob. “Turi took care of him.”
“Yeah, but you came to check on me.” She stares at my mouth for a beat too long, and the kitchen seems to fold around her, squeezing us together. “I want to kiss you again.”
I’m falling forward before she’s even finished saying those magic words, wrapping myself around her body and lifting her into the air with a tight hug. Her breasts press against my chest. This, at least, is something I can do for her.
“Tell me what you need,” I murmur against her neck.
Her legs straddle wide over my hips, and her delicate hands thread into my hair like we’re long-lost lovers finally reuniting after months apart. “I want to taste you.”
“No,” I growl, and she stiffens against me. I knead myhands across her back, all sharp bones and surprisingly firm muscles. “I don’t want…”
Fuck, I can’t articulate this right now. There’s nothing more that I want than to feel her warm, wet mouth on my cock, but I don’t want to just take from her—not yet, not when I haven’t done a damn thing to earn my keep.
She laughs into my hair. “Then I want you to eat me out.”
For a moment, the only audible sound is the whisper of air pumped through the ventilation.
She’s holding her breath.
I can do that for her.
I ease her onto the kitchen counter, and she shivers.
“Cold?” I ask, running my palm up her arm. She’s got goose bumps.
She shakes her head with a smile. “I’m excited.”
Considering the fact that my dick is about to bust through the seams of my pants, she’s not the only one. Knowing my knees are going to hate me for it, I kneel, putting my face at the perfect countertop height.
“Oh,” she exhales. She combs a hand through my hair in a possessive gesture that coils heat down my spine.
“You like that,reginetta?”
She bites her lip and nods.
I cup her calf next to my head and press a kiss there, covered in a thin layer of spandex I can’t wait to peel off. I trail my hands up her legs until I find her waistband and tug the fabric down. She steps onto my shoulders to lift her hips into the air.
“Why don’t you tell me what else you like?” I ask as I reveal her panties—a see-through lavender set with embroidered flowers on it and a huge wet stain in the center that makes me salivate.
“I like the way you look at me,” she says, and I tear my gaze away to glance at her, surprised.
“How’s that?”
She laughs nervously
