Page 54 of Ceremony of Lust
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask Zev when we’re alone in the master bedroom of the house.
It’s about the same size as our current bedroom, but there’s a fireplace at one end and thick, plush carpeting on the floor. It’s painted the color of coffee with too much milk, and the sunlight pouring in from the windows casts the room in a golden glow.
“To help you decide,” he says, digging his hands deep into his pockets as he stands in front of a window overlooking the backyard. His head swivels until he’s looking right at me. “You can’t truly know if you want something without seeing it from every angle.”
Somehow, I don’t think he’s only talking about the house. He’s talking about us.
“You’re right,” I whisper. “The house is even more beautiful on the inside. Thank you for showing it to me.”
“And do you want it?”
I swallow the hard lump in my throat. “Of course,” I murmur.
“And do you want me?”
The question hangs heavy in the air between us. When I don’t immediately answer, he walks away, leaving me alone with the thoughts running rampant in my head.
It’s there, the voice screaming out, “Yes! Of course, I want you!” It’s just hard to hear when so many other things are clogging my mind. One by one, I do my best to siphon them off, to lock them away until I’m left with only the simplest feelings.
Zev is my husband, and I want him.
I want this house.
Those are the thoughts I focus on.
“Zev!” I call out, bolting from the bedroom and rushing through the house. I find him in the gourmet kitchen, talking to the realtor. When he sees me, he stops and looks at me expectantly. “My answer is yes.”
A small smile plays at his lips, and his face relaxes. Clearing his throat, he says, “Well, that’s good to hear since I put an offer on this house.”
30
Zev
Once I putthe offer on the house outside of Ripley’s city limits, it’s a waiting game. Nothing happens in this town without Anders and the rest of the Elders knowing. Any day now, they’ll show up and make more demands, but after Anders paid Yael a visit, I decided to stick closer to home, where I can see who’s coming and going.
The first morning home, I wake up with a smile on my face because Yael is already awake, and the sound of opera floats through the air. She’s picked up that habit from her grandmother, and it’s one thing I like most about her. I like the way she hums along to the melody and quietly sings bits and pieces. Sometimes, I catch her staring out the window, her hand over her heart and her eyes glassy as some aria floats around the house. It’s as though she feels every emotion of what’s being sung.
The smell of cinnamon also fills the house. This is new.
I pull on a T-shirt and let my nose lead me through the penthouse toward the kitchen.
“Well, this is a sight,” I say with a chuckle as I lean against the doorjamb.
Yael’s dark hair is piled onto her head in a messy bun, and her cheeks are flushed. There’s also a huge mess in the kitchen. Various baking paraphernalia—mixing bowls and measuring cups, a light dusting of flour, an empty carton of eggs—litter the countertops.
She smiles, tugging at the loose strands of hair framing her face. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”
I stalk my way toward her, letting the magnetic connection between us pull me closer and closer until I have her in my arms. My lips crash down over hers, tugging and teasing them open until my tongue slips inside. Her arms slide up and around my neck as she tugs me closer to deepen our connection.
“I like waking up like this,” I murmur against her mouth.
“With me barefoot in the kitchen, making you breakfast?”
I shake my head. “No. I like waking up and seeing you happy, looking absolutely beautiful.” I run a hand up her arm and tug at the thin strap of her camisole. “Breakfast is a bonus.”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and a shy smile forms on her lips. “I liked waking up this morning, too. I’m usually alone, and having you home with me feels good.”
“That’s one of the perks of owning your own company. I don’t always have to go into the office.”