The Desire Variable | Rewrite

⸻ THIRTY-SIX ⸻

"I thought I shouldn't let you do all the work. I changed the sheets and put some order in the bathroom." Oh, right... We got carried away before our shower, and the intense slex we had on the marbled counter left a mess. A smile bends the corners of his mouth upward when he sees the trays. "Were you going to bring me this in bed?"

I nod, not hiding my disappointment.

"Damn, I would have loved that. It's not too late. I can get back in there," he suggests with a witty smile. I giggle at his apparent excitement.

"No, it's alright. Especially if you changed the sheets. We can eat it here."

He pulls me into his embrace, his hands resting on my waist, his eyes radiating affection. "I'm sorry, Andrea. Just the thought of you in my kitchen," he starts, one of his hands reaching for the hem of the garment, "wearing my shirt—"

"Poor thing... That's why you didn't put one on?" I tease.

"Yes," he humors, his hand moving up along the smoothness of my hips. Soon, he gets to where my underwear would be if I were a good girl. "Give it back."

His attempt at getting me naked makes me scoff. "You need a better wardrobe if that's your only shirt."

"And you need to cover yourself better if you don't want me fantasizing about your sweet and naked pussy. You made it impossible for me not to join you here."

With that, he bends and takes my lips, hungry and demanding. I don't fight him, but when he pushes me toward the counter, I say, "Baby, the food will get cold." He ignores me and lifts the shirt to my waist before propping me on the counter. "Lex, it's better when it's hot."

"Don't I fucking know it," he replies, his agile fingers grazing up my intimate folds. Fuck... I'm already wet. He rubs gentle circles around my waking clit, and all notions of breakfast vanish.

The shirt is discarded on the floor next to him, and he gazes down at my breasts, his irises darkening with desire. My insecurities kick in despite everything we shared, and I instinctively cover my exposed mounds. Lex grabs my wrist and easily pries my arm away.

"Don't hide from me, Andrea. There isn't one part of you I don't find thoroughly perfect, including your breasts."

"You're the first person ever to like them."

I'm not fishing for compliments, only speaking the truth. My areolas are too large for the overall size of my boobs and a little puffy. While the general shape is rather round, they're so small that it doesn't even matter. I know what I have to offer, and it was never enough for other men. Three bluntly pointed out I was too flat for their tastes, and two asked if I ever considered breast implants.

"I don't get people then," Lex argues. "I like how your nipples are smooth and a light shade of brown like now, but when I do this," he says, bending to take one in his mouth. My breath catches in my throat as he bites, sucks, and licks the sensitive tip. "When I do this, they get small, dark, and hard. I like how they move when you're riding me or when I'm taking you hard. I like how they fit so well in my palms," he continues, covering both of them with his hands and fondling them gently. "But I think what I like the most is that they are attached to you. I love them because they are yours."

"And a little yours, too."

The reminder that I'm his is enough to make him lose the little restraint he has left, and he kisses me like a starving man, desperate to own me. An elegant "ding" comes from the coffee machine, reminding me of the meal I cooked.

"Lex, baby..." I whisper, framing his face to force him to meet my eyes. "Brunch first, please."

Not only am I starving, but I also want us to enjoy all I cooked to the fullest and not eat it cold.