14. Lemon #3
“It feels real to me. In fact, nothing has ever felt more real than the way I feel about you. I love you, Lemon. I knew it the moment I saw you, and maybe that’s because of the Barnetts or magic or a bizarre twist of fate.
But I don’t give a fuck why we found each other.
I’m just happy that we did, because now that I have you, I’m never going to let you go. ”
“I love you too,” I admit, because it’s the truth, and maybe he’s right. Who cares how we got here, because all that matters is that we did.
Apparently, Sunday night is chicken fingers, fries, and corn night on Felix’s menu for the week. But while Atticus happily makes the meal for his brother, he makes us roasted garlic and parmesan pasta with a crisp green salad.
“Felix, dinner is ready,” Atticus tells his brother after he locks the warehouse door and turns off Felix’s music.
Instead of easels and charcoal, Felix is pacing around a huge lump of clay, hacking at it with some kind of tool.
“Come on. He might not look like it, but he heard me. He’ll be up in a minute,” Atticus assures me.
Nodding, I take his hand and let him lead me back upstairs. Felix appears a few moments later and heads into his bathroom, reappearing shirtless, his arms, chest, and face still slightly wet from where he’s washed the clay off.
Atticus places our plates on the dining table, and we all sit down as Felix starts to eat his chicken fingers, humming happily to himself after each bite.
“Bro, I need to talk to you about something,” Atticus says.
“Okay,” Felix easily agrees.
“We brought all of Lemon’s stuff over today, and it turns out we should have listened when Cody said we should make the loft bigger.”
Pausing with a forkful of corn at his lips, Felix looks at me. “You’re not moving in anymore?”
“I—” I start.
“No, bro, she’s still moving in, but I spoke to Cody earlier about making the loft bigger. I think we should add a couple more bedrooms and a design studio for Lemon.”
“Design? What do you design?” Felix asks, clearly interested.
“I don’t need a design studio,” I hiss at Atticus, then turn back to his brother. “I try to make my own dresses.”
“You do?” Felix asks. “Did you make that dress?”
Glancing down at my dress, I look back at him and then nod. “Yes.”
“It’s pretty.”
“Thanks.”
“You should make more dresses,” he says, like it’s just that simple.
“That’s what I said,” Atticus agrees. “So how do you feel about us making the loft bigger?”
“I think we should make it big enough so that we never have to leave. The light is perfect here. I’m so inspired, although that could be the sheets,” Felix says.
“Sheets?” I question.
“The silk ones. Did you like them?” he asks Felix.
“I asked Marcus to get me more sets. They’re so soft.”
“Oh, I bet silk sheets feel amazing,” I say.
“I’ll ask Marcus to get you some too,” Felix tells me.
“In pink,” Atticus says.
“You cannot have pink sheets on your bed,” I gasp.
“It’s our bed, and why not?”
“Because your room is like a sexy bachelor pad.”
“But I’m not a bachelor anymore, and pink is your favorite color,” he says with a smirk.
“I like pink,” Felix says.
“Me too,” Atticus agrees. “So, bro, are you good with us doing some renovations on the place?”
Felix thinks about it for a moment, then nods. “Yes. I want Lemon to live with us, and I don’t want to move again. This place feels like home.”
“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” Atticus agrees, and just like that, they change the subject.
“Wait,” I call out. “You can’t just agree to expensive building work on a whim because of me.”
“Why not?” Felix asks, shocking me that it’s him and not his brother saying it.
“Atticus loves you. You’re getting married, and this is your home now too.
We had this place built when it was just Att and me.
Now that you’re going to be living here too, it makes complete sense that we’d make it bigger so that you have enough room for all your things.
I’m not really sure, but I’m assuming we can afford it, so the cost is basically irrelevant if we’re going to live here forever. ”
It’s the most I’ve ever heard Felix speak about something other than his work or the light, and it makes me sit back in my chair.
Before now, I’d have described Felix as eccentrically distracted, but I’m starting to see that he’s not.
He’s actually just laser-focused on his art.
His work is his passion, and it makes sense that’s where all his focus would be pointed.
But now that his full focus is on me, I can see the similarities between the brothers.
Felix is apparently just as capable of being an intense alpha male as his twin is.
“Cody is sending us over a ballpark price, but unless it’s significantly more expensive than it cost to build the whole loft, then yes, we can afford it,” Atticus tells Felix.
“I don’t have any money. I can’t contribute to any building work, but I can pay what I was paying for my apartment each month,” I tell them.
The brothers look at me, then at each other. “No,” they both say in perfect unison.
“No?” I question.
“No,” they say again in perfect synchronicity.
“No, what?”
“Okay, so to start, we bought this place outright. There’s no rent or mortgage to pay on it.
Second, Felix and I share a bank account.
We pool our money and buy whatever we need, when we need it.
I’m going to add you to the account too, so you can buy anything that you need. But your money is yours.”
I start shaking my head before he’s even finished speaking. “I’m not going to live here and not contribute.”
“I’m not going to take money off you, Princess, so you can get that idea straight out of your head,” Atticus growls angrily, like my suggestion to pay my way is somehow offensive.
“Well, if you’re not going to take money off me, then I’ll just have all of my wages paid into your shared account,” I tell them.
“Your money is yours,” Atticus snarls.
“Then I’ll pay a percentage of the utilities.”
“Absolutely not,” my fiancé says.
“Family account, family money,” Felix says, biting the end off his last chicken finger.
“Thank you, Felix,” I say.
“She’s your wife and my sister. It makes sense. Family account, family money,” Felix says again.
Atticus scowls at his brother, then at me before he reluctantly concedes. “Fine, but if you decide you don’t like it, or you’d prefer to keep your own account, just tell me.”
After we’ve finished eating, Felix disappears back downstairs to keep working, leaving Atticus and me alone in the loft. “We both have work tomorrow,” Atticus says with a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“Aren’t you looking forward to starting at the new studio?”
He shrugs. “Yes and no. I love my job, and working in Betty’s studio should be fine. But I’ve had you all to myself since we met, and I’m not looking forward to not seeing you for hours at a time.”
“If you’re anything like Felix, once you start tattooing, you’ll forget my name until you’re done,” I say on a laugh.
“Bullshit,” he growls, his expression angry.
“I was teasing,” I say quickly.
“I know. But I don’t find that funny. Since the moment I saw you, you’re all I think about, and even at my most distracted, you’d still be the most important thing on my mind,” he snarls, his usually expressive eyes dark and bubbling with intensity.
“I was teasing,” I say again, reaching out a tentative hand to touch his cheek.
“It’s not funny,” he reiterates, slowly rolling us so I’m lying on my back on the couch and he’s on top of me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, lifting my head and searching for a kiss.
By the time we crawl into bed, I’m exhausted and wrung out. Atticus’s normally insatiable appetite for worshipping me seems to have been amped up by the reminder that we have to go to work in the morning and by teasing him about forgetting about me.
“One more,” he coaxes, parting my legs and finding my swollen clit with his fingers.
The quiet buzzing makes me tense moments before he positions the lemon-shaped toy he used on me a few days ago over my clit.
The rhythmic sucking sensation makes me cry out as he pushes his cock into me from behind.
I’m so wet from his cum and my own arousal that his thick girth slides easily inside of me, and I whine loudly as my body starts to hurtle toward another orgasm.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve come tonight, enough that it feels like my body seems to start searching for it the moment his fingers, tongue, or cock enter me.
With the toy mercilessly sucking on my clit and his dick hitting the perfect spot inside of me, I know it won’t take long for me to explode.
“Sir,” I moan loudly.
“Such a pretty sound,” he coos into my ear. “Come for me, Princess. I love you so much. Never forget that. Never think that you’re not the most important thing in my life. Never forget that you’re mine.”
As I fall over the edge, my vision darkens, and I’m not sure if I pass out or simply fall asleep, but the next thing I know, I’m waking up to the sound of an alarm.
“Come on, Princess. It’s time to get up,” Atticus rasps gruffly against my ear.
As I try to move, I realize that I’m sticky and a little sore. “Oh god,” I groan, shuffling to the side of the bed and sitting up before I slowly maneuver my feet to the floor.
“Princess?” he says.
“I’m okay, just a little sore,” I admit.
“Let me carry you,” he offers, climbing out of the other side of the bed and striding around to me.
Instead of refusing, I lift my arms into the air and let him pick me up and carry me into the shower. After he turns on the water, he walks us under it, only lowering me to the floor when he absolutely has to.
Squeezing some soap into his hands, he lathers my body in it, starting at my toes and working up my legs until he reaches my sex. Parting my legs a little with his hands, he gently washes me, a smug smirk curling the sides of his lips.
“Why are you smirking?” I question.
“Because I can still feel me all over your cunt.”