Page 57 of Vallaverse: Twist
My clipped words cut off abruptly as I catch the faint scent of slick. My mouth spreads in a feral grin. “Is that what I think it is?”
He closes his eyes, nodding and pressing his lips together.
“Well, let's get your hands out of that and get you to the bedroom.
His eyes fly open. “Absolutely not. I've worked hard on this dinner. I won't let—” He sighs as the heat rises from his neck to his cheeks. “I want to finish dinner.”
“How bad is it?”
He shakes his head and presses on the dough again. “It isn't. I kind of want to feel it. I don't want to do anything yet. It's been so long since I've felt a natural spike. Is that stupid?”
“Not at all,” I say, still grinning. “You just let me know when you're ready.”
I am more than happy to sit right here in this kitchen and watch him heat up while he cooks if that's what he wants. I understand why he'd want to fully experience the first spike he's had on his own in a very long time.
He goes back to kneading for a few minutes, then puts the dough into a bowl and covers it with a cloth. There aren't many dishes to wash right now, and he doesn't usually make a huge mess when he's cooking, not anymore, but he's taking his time to do everything. Every movement is very intentional, and he pauses every so often to close his eyes for a few seconds. Sometimes he glances at me with heated cheeks. I'm not sure how much interaction he wants from me right now, so I've been returning his blushing glances with indulgent smiles that I hope don't make me look like I'm just waiting for him to give me the green light to help him work through the spike. I doubt it will last long, and it isn't about me, but I still have the urge to ease his discomfort regardless that he wants to feel it without interference. I won't go to him until he beckons me. This time.Next time, I doubt I'll be able to stop myself from taking care of him.
By the time Laz gets the dough turned into pizza and into the oven, the spike seems to be over. He sits down across from me and props his chin up in his hands. “I missed that.”
I nod and keep quiet to let him continue processing.
“It was different than with... It wasn't as fast or hot.”
I nod again.
“It felt good.”
I smile and mirror his position, propping up my own chin. “It did?”
“Yeah. I've always thought the smaller spikes felt good. Less burn, more warmth. The bigger ones hurt, but I like how the smaller ones feel.”
I suddenly remember a conversation we had years ago. We were on our way somewhere, and he had a spike. I remember being so irritated with him because he was so unbothered to be having a spike while he was out in public and away from the safety of his place or mine. I remember being angry with myself for not turning the car around and taking him back home, but I allowed him to convince me that he was alright. He had a natural cycle then, and by the time we got home, he was having the more intense spikes that precede true heat. It was only then that he grabbed my hand and dragged me close to him so he could rub against me like a cat.
“I remember,” I tell him. “You just have to let me know what you need and when you need it.”
He smiles. “You've always been wonderful about that.”
“What?”
“Letting me decide what I need,” he answers. “You only ever made decisions for me if you had to. It's been necessary a few times.”
I smile back. “It has. But I trust you to know what you need.”
“I trust you to give it to me.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brooks
This phone meeting is taking forever. It shouldn’t be this damn hard to get five grown, adult men to agree to a date and a charity. I don’t care if we do five separate charities, so long as those charities benefit equally. I am also a little past frustrated with the argument over which of us will be listed on the first line of the contracts. I don’t care about any of it anymore; I just want it to be done so I can get back to the day I was trying to have.
Laz and I made plans for the afternoon. I knew I’d have to take this meeting this morning, and he decided to take a nap until I finished. I’m half tempted to leave them arguing with themselves and go join his nap. I just need this thing to end so I can be done with it. None of these decisions should take the amount of time dragging on from one tiny point to the next. I’m about to lose my patience and possibly my temper when it becomes very obvious that Laz is no longer resting.
His scent is strong before the door even starts to open. His smoldering gaze slices into me the moment he steps into theroom, and anything I was about to say to the men waiting for my reply on the other side of the screen dissipates into the cloud of need quickly filling my office. The sight of him like this—his chest bare and rising with shallow breaths, his cheeks flushed, his dark eyes daring me to look away from him—takes my breath. This is how I want him. This is how I've always needed him.
He leaves the door open and stalks toward the other side of my large desk and pushes everything to the far end before he slowly starts to undo his pants. He drags the zipper down one notch at a time, and his eyes follow my tongue as I lick my suddenly dry lips.
This is a preliminary spike to his first true heat in what is likely years. I can't imagine how he must be feeling, but the scent that fogs around me as he drops his pants to the floor and climbs onto the surface of my desk is almost overwhelming even for me. He gets on his knees, right beside and just behind my laptop, and spreads them wide, leaning back to brace himself on the wood behind him.
