Never A Saint (COMPLETE)

Seventeen: Danika Reeves

He put my phone in his pocket as he got out and came, opening my door.

I could tell he was off since he didn't offer me help like he usually does.

He brought all of the stuff inside.

I watched him carefully to make sure he wasn't gonna have a panic attack.

But I didn't know what to truly search for.

I didn't know what happens when he's like this.

He likes to cook.

"I'm hungry." I whispered.

He looked at me with a blank expression, eyes completely thoughtless.

I looked at the island and underneath I noticed drawers I opened them and found markers.

I pushed him to a chair and said to sit until he actually complied.

Then I pulled a chair beside him and began using the crayola markers to color his tattoos.

I held under his bicep with one hand, coloring in the lines with the other.

And I did this, talking to him, telling him facts and jokes until he actually reacted to one.

He chuckled when I made a dirty snowman joke.

"Why is the snowman happy?"

"Because the snowblower is coming down the road."

Then he chuckled a bit.

I kept going until he asked "what?" Before the punchline.

Then I told him stories that made no sense until he questioned how it was possible.

By this time I had colored most of his forearm as well.

Then he watched what I was actually doing.

"You said you were hungry." He murmured.

"I did."

"What do you want?"

"Anything."

"Well go shower, I have a hair cover under the right sink, then change into comfy clothes and leave those on the bathroom floor I'll do laundry tonight-"

"I can help-"

"No."

I nodded, assuming he was particular about it.

So I finished the last part and left to shower.

I washed my entire body and used a new razor from the pack he got me and shaved myself until I was no longer prickly.

Then I put on his hoodie and a different pair of his boxers.

I know I had stuff now but this was so much better.

I got downstairs and sighed as his belt was undone, T-Shirt a bit lifted to show skin between the two articles, revealing veins and his v-line.

I was confused as to what he was making.

He didn't even look at me as he moved smoothly through the kitchen, picking me up and placing me on the counter in the process before opening the fridge and grabbing a block of cheese.

He set out a glass and poured it half full with wine.

Then he sipped it and placed it in my hands.

He continued shredding the cheese into the pan of whatever he was making.

When he had a moment to pause, he turned and put his hands on my thighs, running them gently upward, messing with the ends of the boxers, sliding his fingers underneath that with a blank expression as he stared at my legs.

"Tell me a dessert. Any." He said.

"Mmmm how about two? And you can pick?"

"Alright."

"Chocolate strawberries, or candied strawberries."

He nodded, messing with the seam of the boxers in an anxious manner.

"Are you alright?" I asked, placing my hands over his.

He looked at me, his eyes dark.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and immediately he inhaled, clutching onto me.

"You like how I smell?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

One hand was under my thigh, I was picked up with ease, my legs wrapped around him as I heard him stirring.

Afterward he wrapped both arms around me, completely flushing me against him.

His hands moved under the hoodie and ran up my bare back.

I gasped, my heart pounding, my nipples hardening, my skin rippling in goosebumps.

When he exhaled his voice came out like a low, satisfied hum.

He set me back down, letting me go and I just watched him finish the food.

His back muscles were flexing aggressively under his shirt.

I never imagined a man looking like a man would be a huge turn on but it just was.

I hated how easy he was just having me.

I wasn't a challenge at all.

I was giving in with ease.

I sipped the wine.

He walked to the table and I hopped off the counter, following behind.

He pulled out the chair for me.

I sat.

He pushed it in.

He sat.

He watched me, I took a bite.

It was so good.

"What is it?"

"Homemade cheese ravioli with pesto and heavy cream."

"Even the pasta is homemade?"

He nodded.

"It's so good." I shouldn't be shocked like I was.

He was a professional chef.

"When do I work next?"

"You don't."

"What-"

"Let's talk about this after dinner. Please." He asked very politely so I obliged.

After dinner.