Page 117 of Delirium
Storm replaced his usual attire of leather jackets and black trousers for a white T-shirt that clung to his every muscle and washed-out jeans that hugged his ass in a way that had me salivating as I sat on one of the chairs, following his every move. I had no idea where he’d found the dark red apron, but the images in my head made me want to stand up, walk over there and tear it off him.
And yes, I still blamed pregnancy hormones for this hornier-than-ever version of me.
Leaning back against the chair, I placed my hands on my protruding belly, humming as the man I loved more than anything else cooked dinner for all of us, making me fall for him even more. Needless to say, I was terrible in the kitchen. Hell, I couldn’t even make popcorn in a microwave without burning it completely, yet here he was, moving around, knowing what to do.
“I had no idea you could cook,” I said, smiling at his back. His head swiveled over his shoulder, smirking at me, as if he knew what seeing him like this did to me.
I never thought I would see the day where I would actually love all this domestic bullshit—kitchens, sitting around, having friends coming over… It was hard imagining it when your life was filled with constant fighting, constant running. But now at the age of twenty-five, all I wanted was a moment of peace, a place to call my own. Somewhere between running and fighting, I think I finally found it in the most unlikely place.
“Are there any other skills I should know of?” I chuckled. “You’re obviously very good with your fingers.” I wiggled my eyebrows, trying not to laugh, while his shoulders shook slowly. “Your tongue has a master’s degree as well,” I said, standing up from the chair and walking over to him. My hand dragged over his back, feeling him shiver under my touch. “You’re extremely good with guns and knives,” I purred, pressing my lips to the center of his back, snaking my arms around him, pressing my palms to his stomach, right underneath the apron. “If I didn’t know better, I would think that you were trying to make me fall in love with you Mr. Knoxx.”
“Is it working?” he rasped, loweringthe knife he was holding, along with the potato he was starting to cut.
“I don’t know,” I breathed out, dragging my hands over his torso. “I think it might.”
My hands traveled all the way to the hem of his T-shirt, lifting it slowly and pressing my palms to his skin, tracing each hard muscle with my fingers.
He pressed into my touch, groaning as I popped open the button on his pants, playing with the soft skin at his pelvis.
“Sunshine,” he growled, turning around, and taking me up in his arms. He placed me atop the counter, spreading my legs around his hips and holding his hands on my waist. His teeth clamped on my shoulder, pulling a moan deep from my chest as I squeezed my legs around him.
“Behave,” he breathed out, licking the spot he just bit. “Our guests are coming soon.”
“But I don’t want to behave,” I murmured, lacing my fingers at his neck, playing with the short strands of hair there. “I really, really want to be bad.”
A raging inferno stared back at me. As he pressed his hips to me, I could feel just how much he wanted me. His hardened dick rubbed against my pussy, and the thin material of the yoga pants I wore did nothing to decrease the pleasure.
“Later, baby.” He grinned against my cheek, pressing his lips there. Faster than I could blink, he detached himself from me, his hands disappearing underneath the apron to button up his pants. The apron concealed his hard-on, but the planes of his face told me that he wanted me right now as much as I wanted him. “The food is not going to cook itself.”
“I liked it more when you just kept me in your bed.” I pouted, pressing my hands on the counter. All I got from him was a self-satisfied chuckle, before he walked toward me, lifting me and lowering me down to the floor.
His lips descended on mine, the small peck doing nothing to appease the horny bitch living inside of me right now.
“Oh God,” the voice from the entrance to the kitchen grumbled. As I moved back to look over Storm’s shoulder, I saw a frowning Zoe standing there. “Is this going to be a thing now? You two mauling each other in every corner of the house?”
“Fuck off, Zoe.” Storm laughed, moving aside to look at her. “If I want to kiss my girl, I will.”
His girl, God.
I liked to think I was an independent, strong woman, but every time he called me his girl, my panties disintegrated, and the feminist inside of me decided to take a vacation.
“Fine.” Zoe rolled her eyes. “But can you not do it while the rest of us are around?”
“I don’t know.” Storm grinned, wrapping his arm around my waist, and pulling me into him. “Can we, Sunshine?”
“And they have cute nicknames,” Zoe groaned. “Seriously?”
“Are you jealous, Zozo?” I asked, trying not to laugh. “Because if you are, I think I saw Felix in the living room sit—”
“No,” she interrupted. “Don’t even go there.”
“Why, Zoe?” I asked. “He looked quite deli—”
“Ophelia!” she exclaimed, feigning anger, but I could see that she wanted to laugh. “We’re not going to talk about Felix.”
As if he knew, the man in question waltzed right behind her, his eyes drinking her in. “You’re not going to talk about what?”
Zoe jumped and turned around, her shoulders quickly rising and falling as she took in the man standing in front of her. Felix chuckled softly, looking at her as if she hung the moon, but for whatever reason, she didn’t want to see it. I kept watching the two of them, dancing around each other, tiptoeing around the obvious attraction.
