A Love Like Ours

Chapter 41

Once more, she stood on her tiptoes and grabbed the plates she'd already stacked on the higher shelf so that she could rearrange them on a lower shelf.

I turned off the water. Wiped my wet hands on my t-shirt haphazardly. Made a mental note to purchase dish towels.

It had been everything I'd imagined and more—seeing her that way. In our apartment, working together as a team, watching her worry over where to put the plates. It had been something out of a dream, standing there doing the dishes while she bit her lip, contemplating what might be best, what might be most convenient for us once we finally lived here—together.

And I couldn't tamp down the feeling.

She'd gasped when I'd grabbed her by the hips, but giggled as I pulled her against me.

"Harry," she said, reaching a hand up to my head as I kissed her neck. "What are you doing?"

"Hm," I breathed a laugh against the salty skin just below her ear and felt her stiffen. "What's it look like?"

Mads angled her head to the side, and I touched my lips to her throat again, felt her head bump against my shoulder as she leaned back, still giggling.

"We have work to do," she scolded softly. But from the way her fingers raked through the hair at the back of my head, tugging gently, I knew she didn't care.

I kissed her jaw, spoke against it, "And it'll be there when we're done." She turned around in my arms. I ran my fingers over her cheeks. "Trust me."

She hadn't wasted another moment. Just kissed me and pulled at my shirt and tugged off her shorts and giggled when I bumped into the counter and kissed me again until the two of us were in the living room where we remembered we didn't have any furniture.

We'd made due with the floor just fine.

Or at least, I'd thought so until now.

I kissed her hand as she sat back in her seat again. "Well, we had to christen the place, right?"

Mads giggled. "Definitely. Even at the cost of mild rug burn."

I chuckled, too. "Still sorry."

"Still not asking you to apologize."

I felt her glance over at me, and met her eye with a grin.

"Alright, I'm turning the A.C. up. Enough's enough," Mads said, cranking the air-con once more. This time, cool air whipped around us, and she groaned in a way not so unlike the noise she'd made while I was inside her an hour ago.

"Thank God," she muttered, closing her eyes as her head fell back against the seat. The pocket of moisture at her throat dipped as she breathed in, and I was suddenly thrust back into the moment when my tongue had found that little hollow on the living room floor.

"Is your mum home?" I asked.

Mads looked at me. And though I couldn't keep my gaze on her long, I felt the confusion in her silence. "I don't think so. But it won't be long until she is now. Why?"

This time, I let myself glance at her. "Because if you keep making noises like that, I'll either have to have you as soon as we walk through the door, or I'll have to find a place to pull over now." I returned my focus to the road with a rising sense of amusement as her jaw fell open in my periphery. "Your choice."

There were a few beats of silence during which all that could be heard was the whoosh of the air-con. We hadn't even turned the radio on.

"Are you serious?" she finally asked.