Page 50 of Burn the Script

“Fine.” I toss the towel aside and plant my hands on my hips, but the words won’t come on command.

My tongue feels thick like it does any time I try airing the grievances I’ve grown accustomed to swallowing. Complaining never got me anywhere as a kid. It only made matters worse because my parents would argue about which one of them upset me. And while they were busy fighting over who made me cry, I was left alone to console and hug myself.

Drawing in a fortifying breath, I force out one of my biggest issues with our relationship. “You never gave me a nickname. You’d call me ‘baby’ during sex, but that doesn’t count.”

His teeth scrape his bottom lip, but the deeper divots appearing in his cheeks betray his amusement. “Do you want a nickname?”

“No? I don’t know. Not having one made me feel less special than everyone else.”

I lean against the opposite counter and fold my arms over my chest. Now that I’ve voiced my complaint, it sounds silly even to me. At least he’s not straight up laughing, even if his eyes are.

“The chances I’ll remember anyone’s real name are low, so I assign placeholders. I can’t help that some nicknames are perfect and stick forever, like with my angel.”

I toss my hands in the air. “See? You gave Maisy a nickname as soon as you met her, but you’ve always called me by my real name.”

“Exactly, Graham. You’re the exception, which makes you the special one.”

His logic sends a pitter-patter through my heart. My special heart. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from showing how much his explanation pleases me.

“Come here.” He beckons me with two fingers, and my submissive, compliant feet drag the rest of my body forward until I’m standing between his knees. His hands find my waist, and mine find his thighs. “What else bothers you?”

“I lied before, about hoping you meet someone who can offer what you need. Every time I picture you having dinner with another man, giving him your smile, I die a little inside.”

The smile in question makes a bold appearance. “None of them have seen me smile.”

“Good.” The tips of our noses brush. “Don’t date other people.”

“Okay.”

The pitter-patter in my chest does the long jump, and I inch closer. “Yeah?”

“There’s one more coming up, a favor for Carmen, but he has zero chance with me. After that, I’m all yours.” His legs spread wider, allowing me to settle in. “Anything else?”

Now my nose is buried in his neck, breathing in his sweet and spicy cologne. “I can’t think of anything, and I’m feeling much better.”

His fingers slide into the hair at my nape. “Then my destiny is complete, Graham.”

“You’re such a brat.” I lift my head to capture his heated gaze and shallow breaths, our mouths millimeters apart. “Can I kiss you?”

“Maybe once,” he whispers, all raspy and sexy and mine.

The kiss is forceful, a collision of lips, tongues, and frantic hands. Kneading his ass, I swallow his moans and drag him closer until his legs lock around my hips. Blood rushes to my cock, and I grind, needing friction. He unbuttons my shirt halfway, and I silently curse clothing for ever being invented.

Miguel yanks a high-pitched gasp out of me when he pinches my nipples, sweeping his thumbs over them to soothe the ache. His head tips to one side, inviting me to worship his jaw and neck with my tongue and teeth. Tasting him. Begging him.

“Please, darling. It’s been too long. I want to feel you.”

He turns his head and nips at my ear. “No sex.”

“I’ll get on my knees or give you a handy.”

“That’s still sex,” he says. A playful whine masks my frustration, and he tugs my earlobe harder with his teeth. “Are you needy for me, baby?”

I groan, rubbing his thick, swollen cock through his pants. “Always. Now quit being mean, and let me have a taste. I’ll lick the tip and be done.”

His staccato laughter is music to my ears. “No, you won’t. We’ll be here all night because you can’t get enough of me.”

Grabbing his chin, I tilt his head back. “Have you seen yourself lately? You only get more handsome with age.”