Inferno

Chapter 37: The Ashes After the Fire

Eric has also gotten into the habit of coming over every night after work, so at least this way I know I'm not alone. A part of me feels like he's trying to make up for how he acted before--when he lost his memory. I've told him that it's not his fault, that he didn't know what he was doing, but every time I see that steely look in his eyes I know he won't be budged.

I just finish reading The Legend of Tarzan one late night when I hear the routine knock on the door. I let out a yawn, closing the thick book and placing it on the coffee table in front of my couch. I grab the pair of crutches that Mary said I could now use and stand, lifting my broken leg in the air slightly as it aches at the sudden movement.

I slowly make my way to the door, the clacking sound of the crutches resounding on the tiled floor. I pause once I reach the knob, shifting one of the crutches to the side so they're both under my left arm. I flip the lock on the door and turn the handle, opening it. When I see Eric standing there with a take-out box of what I'm assuming is Chinese food, I smile up at him. The corners of his mouth turn up slightly as well as he steps inside.

He walks past me towards the kitchen and I shut the door behind him. Situating the crutches again, I walk to the island in the middle of the kitchen and place myself on one of the bar stools, watching him move about the tiny space. He places the take-out box on the counter and walks to the cupboard that houses the plates.

"What's the damage?" I ask, popping open the lid on the container, my nostrils instantly hit with the smell of General Tso's chicken and fried dumplings. I feel my mouth water at the thought of eating it.

"Two fights at the bar, a couple was caught on the train making out by Lauren, and someone tried to steal a motorbike. It was pretty slow today."

"Making out on the train, huh?" I raise an eyebrow. He looks at me over his shoulder, smirking at me. He grabs the Chinese food and starts dishing it out onto two plates.

"I told you that someone tried to steal a bike and you're worried about some teenagers who were kissing in a train car?"

I tap my chin like I'm pondering something big. "No, not worried. Just wondering what that would be like."

He places the food down on the counter and faces me completely, standing tall and imposing. He takes slow, captivating steps towards me, his boots thudding each time they touch the floor. I feel my breath catch in my throat for a second as he draws near, a hungry look in his eyes.

And something tells me he's not hungry for the Chinese food.

He places his arms on either side of me at the island, trapping me there. I look up at him, mouth parted open slightly in anticipation. He has a determined look on his face, his eyes looking between my mouth and my eyes. One side of his mouth turns up in a smile, showing me his obnoxiously perfect white teeth. I love those teeth. I love that mouth.

I love him.

He leans forward and I meet him halfway, our mouths clashing against each other. My eyes close as he slips his tongue into my mouth, eliciting a groan from me in response. At that he reaches one hand up to cup the back of my head to pull me closer, and his other hand (to my surprise) gently grabs a hold of my hip, pulling me to the edge of the bar stool. He nudges my legs apart as he stands between them, getting close to my body.

He pulls away, leaving me breathless. His mouth peppers kisses from my mouth to my jaw and down the side of my neck. He finally stops at the junction between my throat and shoulder, where he proceeds to suck and lick on my flesh. In the back of my mind I know he's going to leave a hickey, but as I sit here with both of my hands tangled in his hair and his mouth doing wicked things to me, I can't bring myself to care.