In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1)(93)

He pulls things from cupboards and the refrigerator.

“Rex?”

He freezes and when he looks at me I can see the uncertainty he’s trying to cover up with his motions.

“I think you’re perfect. I mean, shit, that sounded sappy, but, I mean perfect in my opinion.” Ugh, how do I explain what I mean? That all those things that he is came together like the perfect recipe.

“For you?” he says.

“Hmm?”

“Perfect for you, maybe?” He looks shy and pleased. All I can do is nod.

He hoists me up onto the counter and kisses me silly.

“Daniel,” he says, “the things you say sometimes. You kill me.” He kisses me and it’s hot and sweet, flushing heat from my stomach to my throat. I start to harden, arousal tingling through me. I chase his mouth, but he pulls back to look at me. His whiskey brown eyes are warm and there’s a bit of color across his cheekbones. His lips look swollen from mine and that line between his eyebrows is a perfect crease.

“Einstein was dyslexic,” I say, a little out of breath.

Rex cocks his head. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, and Lewis Carroll, who wrote Alice in Wonderland. Oh! And Ozzy Osbourne. Forgot about him. And, mf—”

Rex kisses me hard and pats my cheek firmly. Then he pulls me down off the counter.

“All right, so I’ll tell you what to do and you do it, okay?”

“You wish,” I snort, pushing my hips against his.

Rex explains things clearly and gropes me often enough that the time flies. Before I can believe I made something that didn’t come from a can, there’s gingerbread on the counter.

“Holy shit,” I moan, tasting it, “that’s delicious. So, with cooking and baking, how do you learn the recipes?”

“Um, well, I get a lot of them from watching cooking shows. If I can see someone do it then I can do it myself. But for baking I usually have to look at a recipe the first time.” He looks at me intently. “I can read. You get that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It just takes a while. And it gives me a headache.”

“Wait, like the migraine you got?”

He nods.

“Reading gives you migraines?”

“Just if I look at something too long. Or on a computer screen.”

“So, what were you reading too long when you got the migraine last month?”

Rex looks embarrassed.

“Just—well, just some stuff about starting your own business.”

“For your furniture?”

He nods, but his eyes track sideways like there’s something else.

“I can help you,” I say, hoping it sounds casual rather than pitying. “I mean, you could still read the stuff, but if you wanted help looking through it all to find what’s useful. I’m good at research. And then you wouldn’t have to read on the computer. I could just print it out at school—it’s free for me—and I could—”

Rex pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me, tight. His sweater now smells of gingerbread in addition to wool and smoke and cedar and it’s about the best thing I’ve ever smelled. He feels like what I always imagined Christmas would be like in the perfect families I read about in books.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” I say into Rex’s shoulder, where my nose is wedged. He chuckles. “How do you always smell so good?” I’m a little annoyed by it, to be honest. It seems unfair that Rex, looking like he does, and feeling like he does, should also smell this f*cking delicious. It’s like he was designed specifically to conquer every one of my senses. Don’t even get me started on how good he tastes.

He laughs again. Apparently I said that out loud.

He strokes my hair away from my face and keeps a hand at the small of my back.

“You smell great,” he says. “Like pencil shavings and coffee shops and peppermint.”

“My shampoo might be peppermint,” I say, trying to picture the bottle.

Rex smells my hair, running his fingertips over my scalp in a rough massage. It’s such a particular feeling, and it makes me shiver. Then he puts his nose to the crook of my shoulder, where it meets my neck, and breathes in. He drops to his knees, puts his arms around my waist, and breathes me in again. He drops lower, and my breath catches when he buries his face in my crotch, hands on the backs of my thighs.

“You smell amazing everywhere,” he says.

I laugh, but then Rex unbuttons my jeans and nuzzles my crotch and my laugh turns breathless. He kisses my belly and then lower, taking me in his mouth. His mouth is hot and slick and his tongue wraps around my shaft, cradling me. His hands rub up and down my thighs as he takes me deeper in his mouth. It feels amazing, but something’s off. Rex has his eyes squeezed shut and his hands are opening and closing on my legs convulsively.

“Rex,” I say. “You okay?” I run a hand over his brow.

He pulls back and nods.

“Sure,” he says. “Let’s go to bed.”

He grabs my hand and walks toward the bedroom. When he has me down on the bed he starts stripping my clothes off single-mindedly, the crease in his forehead deepening. He kisses me deeply and I moan into his mouth. I pull off his sweater and T-shirt to find his chest flushed and hot. He’s all heat and vibration and movement. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was afraid I was going to leave any second. The intensity in his eyes is half passion and half concentration. His mouth is everywhere. Hot on my neck and shivery over my nipples. He licks into my belly button and nibbles my hip bone. Then he’s back, kissing me as I kick off my pants and unzip his.