Storm (Sex and Bullets 1) - Page 46
Face heating as memories flood my brain, I pull on my skirt and tank top and head down to find Storm.
Laundry. Can’t forget laundry. And breakfast. My stomach rumbles. I’m foregoing any underwear today, since I don’t have any clean ones left. Feels kinda weird, but the thought of putting back on the dirty ones makes me shudder.
He’s in the kitchen, pushing a roast into the oven. He closes the oven door and turns to me, his gaze gliding over me, from head to bare toes. I wiggle them on the tiles and smile.
He pushes me back against the fridge, his hands on my cheeks, and kisses me thoroughly, with lips and teeth and tongue until I’m flustered and panting.
“Morning,” he says against my lips, then grabs me, lifts me and settles me on the counter before I can draw enough breath. He stands between my legs and wraps his arms around my back. “Sleep well?”
I hum in response. There’s a pleasant ache between my legs, which reminds me everything we did yesterday. My body wakes up, and I suck a sharp breath between my teeth when my nipples perk up.
“I think you need coffee and sex,” he says, running his lips over my cheekbone. “Not necessarily in that order.”
“Actually, I think I need a shower first.” I sniff at myself and make a face. “And laundry.”
“Bath,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“You need a bath. I know just the thing.”
I let Storm steer me back upstairs. A long, warm soak sounds good, and I’m dying of curiosity to see where he’s taking me. I follow him into a wing of the mansion where I’ve never been.
No idea why he’s so silent, though. His teasing mood seems to have evaporated, leaving behind grimness.
We enter a square, tall-ceilinged room, one side ending in a balcony overlooking the sea. There is an enormous sunken tub, set in a floor made of polished wood. Blue tiles surround it.
A Jacuzzi. A big-ass, pool-size Jacuzzi by the ocean.
Jesus.
Never even been in a Jacuzzi before. As Storm fiddles with the faucet, letting water gush into the tub and lights come on at the bottom, I wander over to the balcony.
A palm tree grows past the rail, and a climber has taken over the wall, covering it in green filigree. It’s warm out here. The sky is leaden. The ocean rumbles a few yards away, crashing on the sand.
A shuffling noise behind me makes me turn. I observe him as he gets up from the floor slowly, his shoulders slightly hunched, his back muscles taut. As he walks to one corner of the room to grab two fluffy white towels from a low table, he limps slightly. The old fracture in his leg has to hurt with the approach of rain. Looks like he could use a warm bath, too.
That urge to ease any pain he might be in, to soothe him, returns. It fills me every time I’m around him, I realize. I want to protect him just as much as he seems determined to protect me. As much as my body wants him, as much as my mind needs him to overpower me and take me, fill me up and mark me, this desire to hold and comfort him is stronger.
The desire to make him happy.
I go back inside. He hisses in surprise when I hug him from behind.
“Give a guy a heart attack,” he mutters, his laughter a soft exhale.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
“Only a penny?”
“Since I don’t even have that to my name, I could give you a kiss for your thoughts. You seem preoccupied.”
He twists around and draws me close. “A kiss sounds good.”
“You have a one-track mind, you know that, right?”
“Only when it comes to you.”
Warmth spreads through me. I kiss his lips, a quick press. “There.”
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