As he slides in and out, he reaches around to my front, spinning circles around the most sensitive part of me. Then he presses his hand against my belly as he plunges deep inside. I cry out and he kisses in between my shoulder-blades.
“Tell me again,” he says, with his lips still against my back.
“Fuck me harder,” I feel like I am screaming now as he rides me from behind, his hand cupping me from beneath, driving me to distraction. “Pax! Oh my God.”
I’m moaning now, but he’s pulling me with him toward an orgasm that is going to be mind-blowing. I can feel it building and building and his muscles flexing against me as he moves.
“Come in me,” I tell him. “I want to feel you come.”
He moves faster and just as I am moaning from my orgasm, he shudders from his. He grabs my ass and holds there, shaking as he finishes.
And then I drop to the ground and he gently falls on top of me, while still supporting his weight. He kisses the side of my neck, breathing hard.
“That was f**king hot. You’re f**king hot.”
I smile. “Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.”
He chuckles, and as he does, I look around and notice the smoke.
“What the hell?” I wiggle from under Pax and sit up. “Holy hell!”
Smoke is billowing toward the ceiling. I leap to my feet, naked, running for the stove. At this very moment, the smoke alarms go off.
Pax runs to disarm them and I slam a lid over the smoking pan of burned zucchini, turning the flame off.
He rushes back and we stare at it. And then he laughs.
“Well, we did say it was f**king hot. Apparently, we lit my kitchen on fire.”
I giggle. “That might have been our poor cooking skills.”
The entire house smells like it burned down now, so I walk around spraying air freshener while Pax scrapes out the burned mess into the disposal, running cold water over the pan.
“I think this is the end of my career as a chef,” he announces as I wrap my arms around him from behind.
“That’s okay,” I tell him. “I think there’s already a Naked Chef out there. They don’t need another one.”
He spins around and looks at me. “I always need for you to be naked,” he tells me as he drags his hands down my sides before he grasps my h*ps and pulls me to him.
He kisses me, lightly and soft. “You deserve a reward.”
I pull away a bit. “A reward?”
He nods. “Yep. For being such a good pupil.”
I laugh. “What do you have in mind?”
“You’re going to like it. Give me a minute.”
He smiles and strides away, leaving me in the kitchen alone. And naked.
This is an interesting turn of events, I decide as I put away the few things that we’d left out. As I do, I let my mind wander. I think about how glad I am that I’m on the pill now and that Pax’s STD tests came back negative. It’s nice not having to use condoms. And then, as I turn to rinse off the paring knife, I notice a hospital bill laying on the counter. I glance at it, and notice that it was from the night Pax overdosed which was exactly two months ago today.
I’m astounded. I hadn’t realized it has been this long. Two whole months. Who would have ever thought that we’d last this long?
But Pax is back before I can over-analyze it. He grabs my hand, leading me up to the guest bathroom.
“Why are we in here?” I ask as we walk inside.
“Because my bathroom doesn’t have a tub,” he explains. “And after that performance, you deserve a hot bath. I don’t have bubble bath, but I used some of your body wash from upstairs. Is that okay?”
I nod as I stare at the steaming, claw-footed tub. It’s filled with bubbles and there is a folded towel next to it. And two lit candles. I can’t even believe that he thought of this.
“Thank you,” I tell him, as I turn and hug him. “This is so sweet.”
“It’s just a bath,” he murmurs as I continue to squeeze him. “It’s not a big deal.”
But it is. No one has ever run a bath for me, except for my mother, when I was little.
“It’s the sweetest thing ever,” I tell him as I step in. “Trust me.”
I settle against the back of the tub and close my eyes.
“I’ll let you soak for a bit,” Pax tells me before he backs out of the room. I relax, inhaling the lavender scent as I enjoy the hot water. Every muscle kink fades away as I soak. And I revel in the thought that my big, bad boyfriend ran a bubble-bath for me.
Just when my fingers are starting to prune, he walks through the door again. He’s got underwear on now, but his chest is still bare.
“Hi,” he says as he kneels behind me on his knees, reaching in and running his fingers along my shoulders. “How was the bath?”
He bends and kisses the side of my neck and I lean into him.
“It was amazing,” I answer. “Thank you. It was just what I needed.”
“Want to know something?” he whispers into my ear. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I love you.”
I freeze, my heart pounding. I can literally hear my pulse pounding in my ears.
I flip over in the water, my wet hands grasping his on the edge of the tub.
“Did you just say what I think you said?”
He nods. And for once, there is not one ounce of amusement on his face. He is completely serious.
“I love you. I love how you are so sweet and innocent and kind to people, but you are such a vixen in the sack. I love how you look at me. I love your smile. I love everything about you.”
I am completely still as I stare at him in utter shock.
This is big. Huge. I’ve known for a couple of weeks that I loved him, but I didn’t want to scare him by telling him so. But he said it first. Tonight. It’s dumbfounding. And unexpected.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” he asks and he actually looks nervous, as though I might reject him. My heart twinges.
“I love you, too,” I tell him quickly. “I have for weeks.”
And I leap out of the tub, the water sloshing onto the floor as I barrel into his arms. The velocity knocks him to the ground and I hover above him, dripping.