Page 49 of You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty
Feyi stared at him. “Bruh. I don’t even know what that means.”
Alim burst out laughing, putting the eggs aside. He came over and shook his head at the slices she’d cut already. “I leave you unsupervised for two minutes and you butcher my poor vegetables,” he said. “Here, let me show you.”
He stepped behind her and brought his arms around, lightly placing his hands over hers. “So you cut them this way first, then hold your knife like this … yes, just so. It’s about a millimeter or two, that probably means nothing to you Americans, but look … just this thin … and the knife like so …”
Feyi tried to listen, but Alim was entirely too close, and she couldn’t believe he had put himself in such hazardous proximity to her, as if it was nothing. It wasn’t just his voice against her ear, but his breath, his body almost pressed behind hers. Whatever vibe they’d been trying to cultivate with this little cooking lesson evaporated as the air in Feyi’s chest turned sticky and troublesome. She jerked her hands away from his with almost too much force, and the knife clattered on the cutting board, the sound echoing through the room.
Alim’s voice clipped off into silence, and he stood still, dropping his hands to the counter, oval fingernails on emerald tile, her body still trapped in the frame of his.
Feyi couldn’t speak. She was barely even breathing. His mouth was so close to her skin, his slow exhale fanning her left ear. Time decelerated to a crawl as Alim lifted a hand to push Feyi’s braids behind her ear, exposing the side of her neck. Electricity buzzed down her spine and Feyi dragged in a trembling breath, feeling the smooth coolness of a stray carrot slice under her hand. She was transfixed, spelled into place, surely hallucinating as Alim’s breath drew closer and closer. This couldn’t be happening.
An unhurried lifetime passed before she felt his lips graze her neck, and Feyi couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her, so loud in the quiet kitchen, so ragged with want. Alim drew in a sharp breath before pressing the full heat of his mouth to her skin, and fire exploded through her. Feyi stepped back into him, her hands falling off the counter, carrot slices tumbling to the floor as Alim slid an arm across her stomach and pulled her flush against his body, his teeth scoring into her neck. He moaned into her skin, and Feyi dropped her head back against his shoulder, opening her throat to him. Alim spun her around, one hand holding up her jaw so he could kiss her collarbone, her throat, and then he was kissing her mouth and Feyi stopped caring about anything except how he felt, how it felt now that he was finally touching her, now that her fingers were in his hair, gripping his head, and she was kissing him back, at last, at last. He tasted like sin and coffee.”
Dimly, in the back of her head, alarm bells were clamoring, but she didn’t care. To hell with what trouble this would bring, she was alive. She was fucking alive, and Feyi knew that in that moment, she would burn anything, everything, a whole world just to hold on to that feeling.
The air had gone from slow molasses to frantic whitewater in barely seconds. Feyi’s tongue was sliding against Alim’s, desperate whimpers digging in the back of her throat. He was pushing everything aside on the counter, cutting board and knife clattering into the sink, a blue bowl crashing and breaking open on the floor, spilling out carrot slices in bright neon discs. Alim ignored it all, reaching behind Feyi’s thighs and lifting her up onto the counter, his hips pushing between her opened legs as she wrapped them around him. She was wearing a cotton romper, and it rode up her hips as he slid his hands against her skin, pulling her closer till she could feel how hard he was against her inner thigh. Feyi gasped and pulled away, breaking their kiss as reality slammed back into sharp focus.
“Alim,” she said, her breath half-gone. “Alim, slow down.”
He stopped immediately, his breath ragged and quick, his eyes searching hers as his brain caught up with what they were doing.
“Ah, fuck, Feyi, I’m sorry.” He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry, sweetness, I—I shouldn’t have done this.”
Feyi tightened her legs around him in case he got the terrible idea of pulling away. Her chest was cramping up—he’d called her sweetness again, and God help her, there was nothing casual about it this time. It sounded so right in his mouth.
“I didn’t say stop,” she said, “just slow down.”
Alim looked back up at her, his face all kinds of soft and confused and wanting and guilty. Feyi brought her hands down to his shirt and pulled him closer so she could kiss him, slowly, deliberately, with a world of choosing in it.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered against his mouth.
“Feyi …”
“We can talk later … unless”—she jerked back—“unless you want to stop? Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I—”
“No.” Alim slid a hand behind her head, her braids tangling in his fingers, and pulled her mouth back to his. “I don’t want to stop.”
Chapter Fourteen
It was like a wildfire, the way he felt against her, the way it spread and consumed, and even—as the ignored alarms in Feyi’s brain reminded her—the way it was going to destroy. But this thing between them didn’t leave space for thinking beyond what she wanted, and so Feyi reached down for the hem of Alim’s shirt, pulling it over his head and flinging it aside, her hands finding his chest, his arms, his back, as he kissed her face and mouth and neck. This time, he was the one who pulled away, panting.
“Feyi, I—” Alim laughed, a wild and scattered sound. “Oh, fucking hell.”
She’d never heard him curse this much. It sounded delicious. “You okay?” she asked, her mind scattered and screaming with want.
“I’m perfect, sweetness. I’m just—I’m trying really hard not to tear this little one piece you’re wearing into several other pieces and I’m thinking, perhaps not in the kitchen? There are knives here, and I’m fairly sure we broke something.” They both looked down at the shattered bowl, then at each other for a moment, and burst out laughing.
“Oh my God,” gasped Feyi, “this is so on brand. I can’t believe I’m making out with you in your kitchen.”
“Don’t distract me,” he scolded. “I’m trying to focus on relocation. Here, put your arms around my neck … good.” Alim slipped one arm under her knees and another around her back and lifted her off the counter, picking his way through the blue shards on the floor till they got to the doorway.
“All clear,” Feyi said. “You can put me down now.”
“Mm, not yet.” He lowered his head and kissed the tip of her nose. “A little trip first.”
She squealed as he turned and started up the staircase. “Where are you taking me?”
“Just to my room,” he answered.