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“That’s pretty.”

He moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I can just picture you spread out on that black countertop, your white skin glowing with sweat as I eat you out and make you scream.”

I gasp and then giggle breathlessly as I toss a smile over my shoulder at him. “You’re naughty today.”

“I’m naughty every day, baby. You’d look hot against that black granite. If you prefer, I’ll bend you over it. I’m flexible like that.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I think I love the black too.”

He chuckles and kisses my cheek, then leads me away to choose a backsplash and hardware for the cupboard doors.

“Okay, let’s talk appliances.”

“You’re replacing the appliances too?”

“Yep. All new stuff. Of course, now that I think about it, it’ll be easier if you don’t move in with me until the kitchen is done. We can live at your place while I work on it.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to move into your house.”

“Our house.”

“Your house.” Now it’s just fun to be stubborn and disagree with him. I’m totally moving in with him. I’m not sure when, but it’s going to happen.

“You’ve become quite stubborn in your old age,” he says. “I’m going to talk you into it, you know.”

“If you say so. What kind of stove do you want for your kitchen?”

“Our kitchen needs a gas stove.”

We wander through the appliances, looking at all the different stoves, refrigerators, and all of the other appliances a person could ever need. And many they won’t ever need, but are cool anyway.

A beautiful wine cooler catches my eye. I squat next to it and check it out. White wine is my favorite, and I prefer it very cold. This would be awesome built into the bigger and better island Mark plans to build.

“Do you like that?” he asks.

“It’s nice. Would free up space in the fridge. Not that I drink a lot of wine.”

He just nods and walks away, but I have a feeling this will end up in the new kitchen.

“What do you think of a double oven?” he asks and points to two ovens mounted in a wall.

“I barely cook with one oven,” I reply dryly. “Let’s not go too crazy. I do like that fridge with the French doors.”

“Is that the one you want?”

“It’s not my kitchen. But if it were me, I’d probably go with that one.”

“Now you’re just mocking me,” he says with mock despair. “I kind of like this other fridge over here.” Before he can walk away, I grip his arm and pull him back to the other one.

“If it were me, I’d go with this one.”

“I have news for you, M.” He leans in with a half smile and presses his lips to my ear. “It’s always going to be you.” He winks and walks away and I’m left in a puddle of mush. God, he says the sweetest things at just the right time. I can’t even remember why I was so pissed last night. He’s mine.

He stops at the end of the aisle and turns back to me with that naughty smile still in place. “Let’s pick out a dishwasher and we might as well grab a washer and dryer while we’re here.”

“You’re spoiling the house rotten.” I walk toward him and bite my lip when his eyes roam up and down my body, then smile when he reaches my face.

You’re spoiling me rotten.

“It’s for you,” he says simply with a shrug, as if men say things like that every day, threads his fingers through mine and leads me to finish choosing the appliances for our house.

***

“I didn’t realize we’d be painting the cabinets today,” I say and load my brush with more white paint and spread it over the sanded wood. “You must have cleared this all out while I was gone.”

“I did. I finished sanding them down the night before you got home.”

I’m standing on the old Formica countertop, painting the tops of the cabinets bright white. We’ve been working on them all afternoon and are almost finished.

Mark’s phone vibrates on the countertop by my feet and I glance down at it to see Lena’s name flashing with the incoming call.

“Lena’s calling,” I say and hand Mark his phone.

“Hello?” He winks at me and smiles when the other woman begins talking. “Wow, he’s willingly coming out? Sounds fun, but let me check with Mer.” He lowers the phone from his face. “Lena and Colin would like to take us out for dinner tonight. I’m warning you, Colin is pasty white, like Luke in Nightwalker. The man never goes outside.”

I chuckle and finish painting my end of the cabinets. “Sounds good to me.”

“We’re in,” he says into the phone. “Great. We’ll see you then.” He hangs up and helps me off the counter, lifting me into his arms. I plant my hands on his shoulders and kiss him quickly, then rub at a spot of paint on his cheek.

“How much time do we have?”

“About an hour.”

“Good.” I help him gather our dirty brushes and clean up our mess then take his hand in mine and lead him to the stairs. “You need to finish what you started in that store today.”

“What did I start?”

“Horniness.”

“Oh, I can definitely finish that, baby.”

***

“So then, he told the professor to kiss his ass and flipped him off on the way out of the lab!” Lena exclaims, laughing hard.

“You did?” I stare at Mark, who is blushing bright red.

“Yeah. He pissed me off. I was right.”

“You were right, but you also got yourself thrown out of that class and had to repeat it the next semester.” Colin shakes his head and takes a drink of his beer. Colin is not pasty white. In fact, his skin is a dark, rich mocha and he has the kindest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s very tall, at least six foot five, and lean. He shaves his head bald.

Colin and Lena make a very unlikely couple, but they clearly couldn’t be more in love with each other.

They’re also all incredibly smart. When they start talking about work, I can’t keep up.

“English,” I beg and hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Speak English, not Super-Smart-Genius. I can’t understand you.”

“It’s all boring anyway,” Mark says and pulls me against his side.


Tags: Kristen Proby With Me in Seattle Romance