“What if I don’t know how to be happy?” I’m happy that he seems to be okay and dealing well with the news. For now.

“You’ll figure it out. I have complete faith in you. Are you hungry? I could order some food. Or we could go take a walk. Or a drive.”

He sits up and Leo stretches out and then jumps to the floor.

“You don’t have to do this, Saige. You don’t have to treat me like a piece of glass.” Is he mad at me?

“I’m not. I just asked you if you wanted something to eat.” He yawns and fiddles with the drawstring on his pants. His shirt is white and so thin I can see the ink of his tattoos bleeding through the fabric. It’s painfully sexy.

“You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.” I reach out and rub his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay. I understand.” I go to the drawer in my kitchen where I keep the takeout menus. I fan them out and walk back over to him.

“Pick one,” I say. He looks up and grabs for the Greek place. Score. I’ve been craving spanakopita. I ask him what he wants and then make the call to order before going to my closet and putting on my own sweats. I’m not sure Sylas has seen me in them yet either.

When I walk back out with my hair down and my makeup off (except for my red lipstick because I know how much he loves it), his eyes widen.

“See something you like?” I ask. It probably isn’t appropriate to flirt with him like this when he’s dealing with so much, but I think we could use a little time out from the intensity of dealing with everything.

“Little bit,” he says. “Just a little bit.” His stare is like a physical touch. Everywhere he looks heats up and I want to dive across the room and throw myself at him.

This is not the time for me to be horny and needy. I stop walking toward him and make a turn to the kitchen, pretending I’m getting a drink or something. I hear him get up from the couch and walk up behind me.

His warm lips touch my neck. The t-shirt I’m wearing is all stretched out in the neck and drapes over one shoulder and leaves the other bare.

I lean back and mold my body to his. He wants me, that’s for sure. He’s getting hard against my ass and I fight the urge to rub myself against him and make it better.

“We shouldn’t,” I say, but my voice doesn’t sound very convincing. His lips suckle on the spot where my pulse pounds in my neck.

“Probably not,” he says, but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. His hands drift up and own my sides and then around to lift my shirt up and graze across my stomach. My resistance is crumbling and I can’t think of any of the reasons we shouldn’t do this. Only why we should.

I slowly turn in his arms, putting my arms up so he can lift the shirt over my head.

“I feel like it’s been forever and it’s been less than three days,” he says as he reveals the fact that I’m not wearing a bra and that I changed out my simple nipple bars for ones with little red stones. His pupils dilate and he brushes his thumbs across them.

“You like?” I ask.

“Very much,” he breathes as he gets to his knees. His mouth is almost at nipple level and he takes one in his mouth. The bolt of desire that shoots through me makes my knees tremble. At this rate, he’s going to take me right here on the kitchen floor. I’m amenable to that.

Every other thought leaves my head as he moves to show my other nipple the same attention and then slowly unties the bow that is keeping my pants up. I always end up naked before he even takes his shirt off. One of these days, I’m going to have the upper hand in that department.

I slide down to the floor, my back against the lower cabinets.

“Shirt. Off. Now.” He gives me the kind of smile that makes me think of wicked things and dirty words and dark desires whispered in the dark.

“As my lady commands,” he says, stripping his shirt off. I love his skin. I love the colors and patterns and secrets hidden in the multitude of his tattoos. I never thought I would go for someone with this much ink, but I can’t imagine him without them. His tattoos are as big a part of him as his beautiful eyes and his smile and his ability to render me speechless with just a look.

“Make me forget about it,” he says, pushing his sweats down and then kicking them off. “There’s too much in my head.” I bring his face to mine and kiss his lips to stop him from talking. I put everything into it, using my tongue and hands to wipe his mind clear of anything but me and our bodies coming together. He moans as I put my hands on him, stroking him up and down. He lays me slowly on my back on the floor, and I shiver a little as my hot skin meets the coolness of the tiles. His mouth leaves mine and starts its ascent down my body, kissing and biting and nipping and leaving the mark of his teeth on my pale skin. I love how he always leaves evidence of being with me. And he never seems to mind when I get carried away and bite him back.

Sexually, things have always been easy with us. We’re on exactly the same level, like the same things and our bodies come together in ways that make both of us come so hard that sometimes I’m afraid it’s going to kill me.

It’s all the other things that are challenges. Trust. Secrets. My father. So many other things, but when we come together like this, I know we’re right. This is right. He’s right.

“I want to devour you,” he says, licking into my bellybutton.

“Go ahead,” I say, my back arching up to get closer to his mouth. I want him to devour me, destroy me, dissolve me. Because then I’ll be a part of him and we’ll never be apart.

That’s my last coherent thought before he kisses my hipbone and then moves closer and closer to where I need him to be. He licks me once and my legs start to shake. I’m already so close to climaxing.

Of course, that’s when the doorbell rings.

“What is that?” I say. Sylas puts his chin on my stomach and smiles.

“Doorbell. That’s the food. I’m going to get it, but when I get back, I’m going to eat you before anything else.” I’m panting and so close to orgasm that it actually hurts. In my head, I beg Sylas to hurry up. There are voices and then Sylas laughs. I hope he put pants on. He comes back with several bags and sets them on the counter and smiles down at me.

“This is a nice vantage point,” he says, taking his pants off again.

“Get down here and finish what you started,” I say, reaching out to him to bring him back to me.

“Yes, Redhead,” he says and moments later, I come hard, my voice filling the apartment. I’ve always been loud, and I think Sylas likes that.

“Shhh, the neighbors might hear,” he says, tapping my mouth with one finger. “I’ve got something else you can do with that lovely mouth.” I peel my back off the floor and slide down to take him in my mouth. Now he’s the one moaning, his arms holding him up above me. I think he’s going to come in my mouth, but at the last minute he pulls out with a pop and moves so he can enter me. I wrap my legs around him and hold on for dear life. This is not going to be one of those gentle times and I don’t want it to be.

I brace myself against the cabinets so I don’t slide across the floor. This isn’t the first time we’ve fucked on this floor. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’ve fucked on every single surface of this apartment.

I come hard a second time and then he growls and joins me. We’re both sticky with sweat. He gives me one little kiss and then gets to his feet, pulling me up with him. Cum slides down the inside of my leg and I grab a paper towel to clean up before heading to the bathroom and doing a more thorough job. When I come back, he’s got his sweat bottoms on and is putting the food out on the coffee table.

I throw my clothes back on.

“It’s a damn shame to cover you up,” he says. I’m surprised he’s so calm and playful. It’s good, but it worries me. I hope he’s not shoving things aside that will come back to hurt him later.