Page 77 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

“Another,” she said.

He obliged. Retrieving more sauce on the spoon, blowing on the contents before offering her the bite. Immediately after swallowing, he was there again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth with more intensity. He groaned again and she flung her arms around his neck, pulling him close against her body. She felt the solidness of him against her, between her legs, and arched into his chest.

“I cannae get enough,” he rasped before kissing her deeply, his hand squeezing the meat of her thigh.

“More. I want more,” she begged in a whimper.

“As much as ye want,” he said with a rough press of his lips. “Everything. All of it. Any of it.”

The next taste made him wilder. The spoon clattered to the counter and then his hands were in her hair, spearing through the thick waves and holding her head close to his. She gripped at his back, his shoulders, his neck, as he kissed her.

Callum’s mouth left hers to trail hot, seeking kisses across her jaw and down her throat. He sucked gently at a spot right below her ear, another at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“Callum,” she gasped. “I need?—”

“Shhhh, mo cridhe,” he murmured against her skin. “I’ve got you. I?—”

The timer on the microwave clock began dinging a relentless, obnoxious beep. He groaned against her throat, and she let her head fall back against the cabinet with a soft thud.

“I have to deal with that,” he muttered. “I?—”

“It’s fine,” Jory said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before moving to the stove and scooping a cup of pasta water out with a glass measuring pitcher. He carried the heavy pot to the sink, and Jory’s eyes felt glued to the sight of his flexing biceps as he tipped the pot over a colander.

She watched as he returned the drained pasta to the pot, brought it back to the still-hot burner, and ladled sauce into the pot, alternating it with drizzles of pasta water. He gently stirred the pot with a pair of tongs, and Jory’s senses—all five of them—were so overstimulated she could scream. The scent of the pasta, the sight of Callum in a worn, thin cotton T-shirt, the sounds of her own panting breath, the feel of the air moving around her body after he vacated her space, the taste of?—

“Hungry?” Callum asked, an eyebrow raised slightly.

“Starving.”

“I ken the feeling.”

She didn’t answer him. What was there to say? There was more than one way to starve. Tobestarved. Tofeelstarved.

“Callum,” she began, but didn’t know what to say. And so his name hung in the air between them along with all of the tension and want and hunger.

“Jory,” he answered, setting down the tongs and the plate he’d retrieved from another cabinet. He stepped closer to her, back toward the cradle of her body.

The hunger was a living creature. What had he said when he’d first described being turned into what he was? When she’d accused him of being a monster in Hank and Esther’s kitchen.“You dinnae understand. You cannae understand what it’s like. The cravings. The never-ending cravings.”

She thought she might understand. She took a deep breath to do just that when the door banged open and she heard Robbie hiss, “Oh, fuck. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He had an arm over his face, as if to cover his eyes, as he hurried into the cabin and straight into a wall.

“Fuck,” he shouted, and Jory couldn’t help but smile.

Callum’s eyes were closed. “Robbie,” he said in the same tone someone might use to warn a child that they were nearing the end of their patience.

“Hi, Robbie,” Jory said brightly, leaning around Callum’s hulking shoulder to look at him.

“Hey, Jory-dory,” Robbie answered sheepishly, rubbing at his elbow with a wince. “I’m sorry. I know it’s the big date night, Cal, and I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just… I don’t really have anywhere else to go, so I’m gonna go to my room and put headphones in and watchFawlty Towersand you’ll never know I’m here.”

He began to rush toward the little hallway that led back to the bedroom.

“Robbie, come eat with us.”

“Jory,” Callum said through gritted teeth.