Page 150 of Things We Left Behind
He tugged on my hair until I looked up at him.
“Okay. Fine. I’m back to being nauseated by the thought of sex with you,” I teased.
“So we’re officially done then?” His face was once again guarded. It was somehow worse after having seen him in so many shields-down, orgasmic moments.
I shrugged one shoulder. “I guess so. I suppose I could feed you before I send you packing.”
As if on cue, Lucian’s stomach rumbled.
I feigned a gasp. “I didn’t know vampires got hungry.”
He lunged for me, his teeth grazing my neck. “Hold still, you snack-size human.”
I gasped with laughter and collapsed against him again. Playful Lucian was an entirely new creature to me. Like Edward after Bella had discovered his secret inTwilight. Only I hadn’t discovered Lucian’s secret. I’d just had a whole lot of sex with him.
His hands gentled on me. “You have a beautiful laugh.”
I sat up again and frowned. “Okay. You’re officially delirious. Come on. I need lunch and electrolytes since you dehydrated me via my vagina.”
“My cock is sore. As in the-day-after-leg-day-at-the-gym sore,” he complained as we crawled out of bed.
I pulled on a blue bathrobe with daisies while Lucian yanked on his underwear. He frowned down at his dress shirt. It was missing a few buttons and had a questionable wet spot on the sleeve.
“Hold on.” I limped into my closet and found the sweatshirt I was looking for. “Here,” I said, tossing it to him.
He caught it and his frown turned into a scowl. “Whose is this?” he asked, holding up the extra-extra-large Penn State hoodie.
“Mine now,” I said.
“Whosewasit?”
“An old boyfriend. We dated for a couple of months after I graduated college and was working in Hagerstown. He was a social studies teacher.”
“Blake.” He said the name like it was an insult.
I raised an eyebrow. “You know, Unfucked Sloane would be giving you shit for knowing my ex-boyfriend’s name from fifteen years ago. But Well-Fucked Sloane is too tired and hungry to start a fight.”
He threw the sweatshirt back to me. “I’m not wearing this.”
“You’re missing out. It’s comfortable and it’ll fit you.”
Lucian picked up his ruined dress shirt and stubbornly shoved his arms through the sleeves. “You probably think of him every time you wear it.”
“Fondly,” I said, not above adding just a few drops of lighter fluid to the flames. “Come on. I’m starving.”
We made quite the picture, stumbling and limping our way down the back stairs into the kitchen.
Meow Meow glared judgmentally from her perch on a pot holder in the middle of the island. The tip of her tail twitched.
“That’s incredibly unhygienic,” Lucian observed.
“Good thing you don’t plan to spend any time in this house, because every flat surface has probably come into contact with cat butt,” I said, ruffling her ears before opening the refrigerator door.
“What’s it’s name?”
“Her name is Meow Meow.”
“That’s an unimaginative name.”
