Page 74 of Until Then

“No.”

Shockingly, I’m not. Being with Izzy feelsrightin a way. Like she’s been here forever, beenmineforever.

She smiles and pops another grape into her mouth. It’s a variety called cotton candy, and she insisted we buy them during our last grocery store run. I’m a skeptic, and even I have to admit they’re good.

“Pay attention.” She waves her hand to the skillet on the stovetop. “Don’t burn my grilled cheese.”

With a peck to her lips, I turn and do as I’m told. Then I’m plating our grilled cheese sandwiches, and she’s carrying the bowl of grapes to the table. I pull out a chair and sit down,tugging her into my lap as I go. It’s precarious having her there, rubbing her ass against me, but I want her close.

I lift one sandwich and hold it up to her.

Tilting her head down, she fights a smirk. “Are you going to feed me?”

“I’m trying to.”

Her smirk only grows. “I’m capable of feeding myself. My hands are working. It’s only my vagina that’s a little sore.”

I nip at her jaw. “You and that mouth.”

“You like my mouth.”

I do, I really do. And not for the reason she’s thinking. I like her sass and her smarts and her sweetness. All of it.

When she finally takes a bite, her eyes widen in surprise. “That has to be the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”

“I told you.”

When we finally extracted ourselves from my bed after a slow and careful round three, I told her I’d make grilled cheese for dinner, to which she scoffed. According to her, it’s boring. Basic.

She takes another bite. “What more could a girl ask for? Cheese and a post-orgasmic glow.”

Chuckling, I take a bite of the sandwich. We might as well share them. “Glad I can provide.”

She wraps an arm around me and rubs the back of my neck with her thumb, her gaze locked on mine. It’s intense, but not in a way that makes me want to look away. If anything, I want to sink into the depths of her. Read her mind. Memorize every detail of her. Every bit and piece of Izzy James.

It’s there, in the back of my mind, my conscience. It taunts me, reminding me of her age. I ignore it. I don’t want anything to ruin this. I haven’t felt this kind of blissful, borderline selfish happiness since I was a teenager.

We finish off the first grilled cheese, then the second. When it’s gone, Izzy turns around and straddles my lap. And when she rocks her hips against me, I groan. I don’t know how, but he’s already coming to life again.

“Simmer down, boss man,” she murmurs. “My vagina needs a break. I just want to look at you.” She takes my cheeks in her hands, studying me with a serious quirk of her lips like I’m a specimen to inspect beneath a microscope.

Her touch is reverent, her fingertips drifting over the slope of my nose. Her lips move, but no sound comes out.

“What are you doing?”

She smiles softly but doesn’t stop. “Counting your freckles. I find I have quite the obsession with them.”

“Just my freckles?” I taunt.

“And your lips.” She traces the curve of them. “Your shoulders.” Her hands are a warm caress over my deltoids. “All of you.” She leans in for a kiss.

I slide my fingers through her hair, deepening the kiss. Her taste is imprinted forever on my tongue.

“Let’s go somewhere tonight.”

She sits back, resting her elbows on the table behind her, one brow lifted. “Where?”

With a hand tucked up under her shirt, I ghost my fingers over the toned skin of her belly. “We could get dinner on the pier.”

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