Page 53 of Like Grim Death: Part One
Another clatter, a slam of a cabinet.
I smile to myself, my eyes finding Ella’s ass. She’s got her hands in a mixing bowl, her back to me, long, dark red hair down her back. She’s in yoga pants and a white T, tied at the hip, giving me a glimpse of her love handles. I want to fucking grab a handful of her and fuck her over the counter, right here.
I glance at Cain.
Never mind. Ezra already saw too much of her, and Lucifer got to experience things he shouldn’t with her. Fuck that.
I walk past Cain, coming into the kitchen, surprised Ella didn’t wake me up herself and start slamming me with questions.
I come up behind her, my hands going to her shoulders as I knead her flesh and dip my head, pressing my lips to her neck. Inhaling, I catch her vanilla scent, and something like sweat, like she might’ve been working out. I groan as I skim my teeth over her skin. She’s all warm and a little sticky with perspiration.
My dick is hard, pressing into her back, and I walk forward, pushing her against the counter.
She doesn’t make a sound.
Doesn’t say a word.
Her body doesn’t even react to me, like mine is clearly doing to her. I pick my head up and watch her slender fingers working the dough in the silver mixing bowl. She has a baking tray across the open eyes of the stove, and below them, I see the blue light indicating the oven is heating.
“You already worked out, pretty girl?”What time did you wake up? Why didn’t you come see me first?
She doesn’t answer me.
I dig my fingers deeper into her skin, feeling the flex of bone and muscle. “Ella?” My voice is rough, from lack of sleep and maybe because I’m horny, but whatever.
She keeps kneading the dough, soft white powder dusting her fingertips.
I slide my hand up her shoulder, to the curve of her neck.
She stills, stopping her movement. Her breathing, I think too.
I curl my fingers over the front of her throat. “Are you not speaking to me?” I keep my tone even because I don’t mind her games.Play with me, baby.
She takes a breath. Then says nothing.
I roll my eyes, flexing my jaw. She still doesn’t move though, and I want to take that fucking mixing bowl and throw it across the room.
But I don’t.
I didn’t come to bed last night. Didn’t use my burner phone to send a text, a call, or an explanation after I walked to Sid and Luce’s house. She wakes up to me sleeping on the couch downstairs with Cain. Probably the least bad thing I’ve ever done, but I still can’t be mad she’s annoyed, even though it is getting under my skin a little. But ifshehadn’t come to bed, I would’ve taken my ass down the stairs and found her. I would’ve turned this city upside down looking for her.
Own your fucking power. Don’t you realize how much you have over me?
I press my thumb against the hollow of her throat. I hear her sharp intake of breath, one hand still on her shoulder.
“Are you mad?”
Silence.
I smile, staring at the back of her head, her red hair in messy waves. “Tell me.”
I watch her fingers tighten around the dough in the bowl. I release her throat, then trail both of my hands down her arms, over her elbows, then her wrists, coming to her pretty little, flour-coated fingers.
“Let go,” I whisper in her ear.
She does, obeying me, and it makes me feel good.Control.I crave it. She gives it.We work together this way.
I lace my fingers through hers, then release her only to spin her around and push her against the counter. Picking up her hands again, I bring her middle finger to my mouth, just holding her other hand.
