“Zane?” Dakota pads into the bathroom behind me. “Are you okay?”
Her arms slip around my waist, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Okay.”
“Come on.” She straightens and tugs on my arm. “Food is ready.”
“Not hungry.”
“You will be when you smell this.”
I grin in spite of myself. In spite of Emma’s memory. “Another recipe from your great-great-aunt or something?”
“Yeah. Aunt Carolina’s recipe.”
I frown. We’re going to visit her aunt tomorrow at the hospital. I know Dakota is sad, that she loves her aunt a lot. “You said she’s an adventurous woman.”
“That what got you worried?” She winks at me.
I shrug. “Maybe a little.”
That’s a lie. Whatever Dakota cooks is delicious. All those aunts are pure geniuses. Not that I’m picky with food. If I was, I’d have starved since an early age at the foster homes and group homes. Sometimes the only food for weeks on end was stale bread and moldy cheese or old pizza. When I was on the streets, it was greasy burgers, and fries and other things I don’t even wanna think about.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate something good.
Take my childhood, for instance. It was fucked-up. Everyone I trusted screwed me over, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tell how amazing Dakota is.
How good she is for me.
So I let her draw me to the table and push me into a chair, then watch as she serves the food into two chipped bowls and nukes them in the microwave. When she turns to place a spoon and a fork in front of me, I put my hand over hers on the table.
“Thank you,” I say.
“What for?” She smiles, and I want to kiss her so bad. My body has been kinda dead to the world since I returned from the hospital, but now it perks up, taking new interest in the proceedings.
“Thank you for bringing me back.” I draw a long breath, because saying these things ain’t easy. “For sticking with me when I freaked out or drank too much, or…” I wince. “Or when I asked you to do things you weren’t comfortable with.”
“Like?”
I open my mouth, close it. Seriously? I need to spell it out? “Like doing you against the wall and not letting you hold me.”
She licks her lips, leans in closer. “I said I trust you. And once I got over my own fears, I have to tell you…” She brushes her mouth over my ear, making me shudder. “That was hot.”
“Come here.” I drag her onto my lap and bite down a groan as her sweet ass settles over my hard-on. “That was hot, huh?” Shit, she’s killing me with her admission. Makes me feel what I wanted wasn’t so bad, after all. Wasn’t so weird. “Also thank you for helping me break through the stupid shit in my head.”
“Stupid shit?” She arches a fine dark brow and straddles me, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Yeah.” I fight the jerk-knee reaction I get when her hands settle over my burn scars. “The shit that wouldn’t let me kiss you, hold you like this, and see your face as we get down and dirty.”
“Dirty,” she whispers and presses her breasts to my chest, completely derailing my thoughts. “I like that, too.”
Fuck, I want her. Her scent, her softness, her voice, her mouth, her warmth… Want her so bad. It’s not just my dick, hard and aching. My whole body moves toward her, needing her touch.
Bending forward, I crush our mouths together, thrust my tongue between her lips and almost come on the spot from her taste. She tangles her tongue with mine, distracting me from the instinctive panic flash that jerks my body when her hands knead my nape.
Don’t sink into the past. This is Dakota, holding me, kissing me. Rolling her hips, grinding herself on my hard-on.
Oh hell, yeah. My body isn’t up for much yet, but this… this feels awesome. I need…
She breaks the kiss and lifts her skirt. Christ, she’s naked underneath. My mouth goes dry.