Chapter Nineteen
Britta
The apartment smelled like home.
Not the version I’d grown up with. Not the version I’d tried to build before everything went sideways.
This one.
This version with mashed potatoes, gravy bubbling on the stove, corn heating in a pan, and Swift standing at the window like some kind of dangerous, overprotective guard dog. This felt like something else entirely.
“Do you ever really see anything worthwhile out there?” I asked, stirring the gravy slowly, watching it thicken.
“I’m just watching,” Swift said from the window. “You never know what you’re going to see.”
I smiled to myself. “Yeah?” I teased. “And what are you seeing tonight?”
“Not a whole lot,” he chuckled.
I heard his boots cross the floor behind me before I felt him. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against him, solid and warm and very distracting. His lips brushed behind my ear. “Though the view is a whole hell of a lot better in the kitchen.”
I giggled, leaning back into him without even thinking about it. “I have to say,” I said, still stirring the gravy, even though my brain had officially left the building, “I was pretty shocked when you kissed me in front of the whole club today.”
His chest rumbled softly behind me.
“You’re mine, sugar,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “No sense in sneaking around when you’re what I want.”
My heart did that annoying little flip thing it had been doing a lot lately. I swallowed. “Do you think it’s quick?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His arms tightened slightly before he turned me in his hold.
“You and me?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I almost lost you two weeks ago before I even had you,” he said, his voice steady but heavy.
“Then someone tried to take me out right in front of your place. That kind of shit changes things.” His thumb brushed over my jaw.
“What are we gonna do? Dance around it? Pretend we don’t know what this is? ”
I exhaled slowly. “I know,” I said. “I just… needed to make sure we’re thinking the same thing.” Because I was in this. Deep.
And I wasn’t used to jumping without looking.
“You ever wonder why they call me Swift, sugar?” he asked.
I tipped my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I mean… not until right now,” I laughed.
“Because I make quick decisions,” he said. “I don’t hesitate when I know what I want.”
My stomach fluttered. “Good to know,” I teased. “I was hoping it wasn’t because you were secretly a Swiftie.”
He blinked at me. “A what?”
I stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
“Am I supposed to know what that is?”
“Taylor Swift,” I said. “The singer?”
He shrugged. “Are we playing a game right now?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “One of the most famous singers in the world?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell, sugar.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t believe you.”
A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.
“I don’t play games normally,” he said.
My stomach dipped. “But…” I prompted.
“But I’ve always been a fan of strip poker.”
I let out a full laugh, pushing lightly at his chest. “How in the hell did you get from Taylor Swift to strip poker?”
He didn’t move back. If anything, he stepped closer. “Doesn’t matter what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice dropping. “I’m always thinking of ways to get you naked.”
My breath hitched because this man didn’t say things halfway.
I reached up, cupping his cheek, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “With you,” I murmured, “it really wouldn’t take much more than you telling me to take my clothes off.”
His eyes darkened instantly. “That so?” he asked.
I nodded. And I meant it.
God help me, I meant it.
He leaned forward, reaching past me to turn off the stove. The quiet click of the burner shutting off sounded louder than it should have. Then he slid the pot of gravy off the heat.
“What are you doing?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I already knew.
That slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips again. The one that made my knees weak.
“Get naked, sugar,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Dinner can wait.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
For half a second, I just stared at him. Then I laughed softly under my breath. “Bossy,” I teased.
“Effective,” he corrected.
I shook my head, but my hands were already moving. My shirt went over my head, and I tossed it somewhere by the fridge. Next, my pants.
Not rushed.
Not nervous.
Just… certain.
His eyes tracked every movement, every inch of skin I revealed, like he was committing it all to memory. Like he wasn’t ever going to get enough.
“Careful,” I murmured, stepping closer to him. “You keep looking at me like that, and you’re going to end up naked, too.”
His hand came up, fingers curling around my hip, pulling me flush against him. “That is exactly what I was going for.”
My breath caught. “Swift,” I whispered.
He dipped his head, brushing his mouth along mine—slow, deliberate, like he was giving me time to pull back.
Like he was still making sure.
I didn’t pull back. Not even a little.
My hands slid up his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the strength there, the way he tensed under my touch. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said softly.
His forehead rested against mine for a beat. Then his hand came up, cupping the back of my neck. “Good,” he murmured.
And then he kissed me.
Not rushed.
Not careless.
Just… sure.
Like he meant every second of it.
Like this, us, was exactly where he wanted to be.
God knew it was right where I wanted to be.