More Than Meets the Eye - Page 125

I hope your silence means good news

[10:02 PM]

Are you hooking up right now?

[10:26 PM]

BAZ I’M DYING HERE I wanna know how it weeent

Baz smiled into Sami’s hair.Curious as always.

We’re okay!But I have lots of making up to do.

I need your help.

Chapter twenty-nine

Samiwasadorableinthe morning.The grunt when he stirred and stretched his body as if all his muscles had turned to wood overnight, the way he buried his face into Baz’s neck to escape the light pouring in as if he were a vampire burning under its intensity, it all did unfathomable things to Baz’s heart.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a man in my bed.”Sami’s voice was rough with sleep.Effortlessly sexy as ever.

“Is that good or bad?”

“Hmm…” Sami cranked his head back and pressed a kiss on Baz’s lips.A faint smile crept onto his face.“Good.Definitely good.”

Excellent.

With neither of them being expected at any offices, they had the luxury of a slow morning.Something Baz hadn’t indulged in since their last sleepover.Except back then, he had lacked an excuse to linger in bed for cuddles, to stroke along Sami’s back and feel the scars on his arms, the smooth roadmap of his childhood curiosity.

“You’re obsessed,” Sami chuckled.So what?

“I love how they feel.”

“You’re the first.”

Hard to imagine, but he’d happily take the credit for being the first lover to appreciate every part of Sami.

“Can I be the last, too?”

Sami’s jaw dropped.His cheeks grew redder by the second, a beautiful sight Baz was deprived of immediately because Sami pressed his face into his chest with a hearty groan.

Wow.Who would have thought Sami Adam had a shy side?Oh, Baz would love exploring this.Loved him.

To prove it, once Sami let go of him, Baz instructed him to take it easy while he got them a caffeine boost and climbed out from under the comfortable bedsheets first—a gesture he immediately regretted when a chill shook through him.

The kitchen could have passed for a relic from before the Great Fire.One drooping shelf was stocked to the brim with an array of spices, half of which Baz had never heard of; a yellow powder called ‘Dukkah,’ a crimson red powder labeled ‘Sumac,’ a jar of what looked like an herb mix that had ‘Za’atar’ written on its side in Sharpie.Crooked cabinet doors strained the hinges.Baz wouldn’t touch those before they fell apart.Instead, he fished two mugs out of the hill of clean dishes stacked on the drying rack next to the sink.

The coffee machine howled a dying scream that had Baz clutching his hands over his ears.It barely dampened the roaring and grinding of the precious beans containing his will to live.Horrible.Even the one in the associates’ kitchen didn’t torture him so.Granted, the end result didn’t smell too shabby, but that hardly made up for the assault.No one should be forced to start the day like this.Would it be too preposterous to get them a new, quiet coffee machine…?

“You’re still here.”

Naija stood by the door, dressed for business in a white blouse, the collar of which turned into a tie and wide-legged black pants, fumbling with the clip on her watch.Her tone was too neutral for Baz to gauge whether or not she approved.

“I didn’t make him cry.”

Now that earned him a smile.“Glad to hear it.Keep it up.”

Naija leaned past him to grab an apple from the blue plastic bowl on the counter.A hint of petrichor colored the air around her.