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Her attempt to hide her laughter fails and she bursts out, “Why?”
“I find them funny. Plus, the slower pace is relaxing.” When she goes for another bite of my curry, I bat her hand away. Cunning little flame kisses my cheek, distracting me enough to get what she’s after. I’d let her steal much more than my dinner for a kiss.
I clear my throat. “What I watch most often, though, is The Twilight Zone.”
“Okay, that I can understand.” She pulls The Twilight Zone up on the TV, and I smile when she immediately goes to my favorite episode.
The story is familiar enough that we both talk throughout, making little remarks about the plot or the actors or just anything that pops to mind. Once the takeout containers are empty, I pull a blanket over Finley as she curls into my side, resting her head on my shoulder.
It doesn’t take long for the soothing tones of the narrator’s voice to ease my mate to sleep. Her head lulls, falling off my shoulder. I ease her into my arms and carry her up to her room.
She mumbles something as I lay her on her bed, too soft to hear. I don’t want to leave her. Everything in me wants to climb into bed and hold her. Instead, I tuck her hair behind her ear, lean over, and kiss the top of her head.
“Soon,” I whisper to myself. “Soon.”
Chapter 14
Finley
I’ve never had amore horrible interview. A part time position at my old high school would have been ideal if the principal hadn’t been an old teacher of mine who hated me. He used the entire interview to belittle me for my life choices and tell me how irresponsible it was to study art—even though it was a requirement for the art teacher position I was applying for. Asshole.
I barely wait until the door to the apartment is closed before I let out a frustrated scream.
“What happened?!” Cyrus comes skidding around the corner. He moves so fast I can barely register he’s there before he’s touching me, his gaze traveling over me like a doctor studying a patient.
“Are you hurt?” Large hands cup my face. His brows wrinkle together, eyes wide, pinched, assessing. “Say something,Finley? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His forehead drops to mine, and he’s whispering, “Please, tell me you’re okay, little flame.”
“I’m fine.” I move my hands up to his face and force him to look at me. “Cyrus, I’m fine.”
His breath rushes out. “Thank the goddess.” But then his eyes narrow and anger creeps into his voice. “Why the hell were you screaming? You scared the life out of me.”
We step away from each other at the same time, and I drop my messenger bag on the floor. “Haven’t you ever just needed to release some frustration?”
“I prefer other ways to release tension.” His flirty smile could dissolve a girl’s panties, and it definitely has me clenching my thighs.
After our kiss and cuddle time yesterday, I spent all morning worrying that he’d pull away again, but the smile he’s giving me now gives me hope.
I step into him and run my hands up his chest. “Not all of us can be sex gods.”
“A sex god, huh?” His chuckle is just as sensual as everything else about him. His arms come around me, and I lean intohim.
“Don’t act dumb.” I pat his cheek. “You know you’re attractive. I’m sure you can find someone more than happy to fuck you whenever you need to let off some steam. Not all of us have that option. So sometimes, I scream. It helps.”
His eyes darken. “I don’t use sex as a tension release. I haven’t in… not since I met you.”
“Wait, are you telling me you haven’t had sex in six years?” I know he told me he hadn’t been in a relationship in six years, but I have a hard time believing he didn’t have a casual fling or a one-night stand, and my incredulousness comes through in my tone.
“Yes.” There's no hesitation in his voice.
I squint, trying to find the lie, but he looks sincere. So sincere. And earnest. And his arms are so warm around me. “What… what do you do to release tension, then?”
The grin he gives me is almost boyish. “Come with me.”
He takes my hand and pulls me along, leading me upstairs, down the hall, through a door I thought was a closet, up a spiral staircase, to a room I didn’t know existed.
It’s a massive gym. Large floor-to-ceiling glass doors let in bright sunlight. Mats line the floor. There are a few workout machines, but mostly lots of free weights and a massive punching bag. There’s enough space between everything foran elephant to walk through.
“No wonder you look like a sex god. You’re one of those gym junkies. Well, enjoy.” I turn to leave. Working out isn’t my scene. I like a long walk, and I love a good swim, but just standing there lifting weights? No, thank you. “I’ll stick to my screaming.”
