Sweet Hatred-Chapter 448: Kitchen roulette r18

A giddy feeling bubbled up in my chest, unexpected and warm.

No interruptions. No meetings or obligations or outside world pressing in.

Just us.

I turned off the TV and crawled back into bed, burrowing under the warm blankets.

The moment I settled, Kael’s arm automatically wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against his chest even though he was still asleep.

Like his body knew where I belonged even when his mind was unconscious.

I smiled, pressing back into his warmth, and grabbed the remote for the bedroom TV.

I found something mindless... a romantic comedy I’d seen a dozen times... and let it play softly in the background.

I must have been watching for about forty minutes when I felt Kael stir behind me.

His arm tightened, squeezing me like I was a teddy bear or body pillow.

He buried his face in my neck, his breath warm and ticklish against my skin.

"Morning," I murmured.

"Mmm." His voice was rough with sleep, gravelly and low. "Morning."

He pressed a lazy kiss to my shoulder, then my neck, then just under my ear.

"Did you sleep okay?" I asked.

"Best sleep I’ve had in weeks," he said. "You’re very comfortable."

I laughed. "I’m comfortable?"

"Very." Another kiss, this one lingering. "Like my own personal pillow. Except warm. And soft. And mine."

"Possessive this morning, are we?"

"Always."

We stayed like that for a while, lazy and content, wrapped up in each other while the snow fell outside and the movie played quietly in the background.

Eventually, though, my stomach growled.

Loudly.

Kael chuckled against my neck. "Hungry?"

"Starving, actually."

He reached for his phone on the nightstand and pulled up the room service menu.

Then frowned.

"What’s wrong?" I asked.

"Room service is delayed due to the storm. Skeleton crew. Limited menu. Could be hours."

My stomach growled again in protest.

"We could make something ourselves," I suggested.

Kael raised an eyebrow, turning to look at me properly. "Can you cook?"

"I made you pancakes once," I said defensively. "How hard can it be?"

His expression said very hard, but he didn’t argue.

"Alright," he said, climbing out of bed. "Let’s see what we’re working with."

Conveniently, the suite had a kitchenette tucked into one corner... high-end appliances that looked like they’d never been used.

Which, honestly, they probably hadn’t.

People who stayed in suites like this didn’t cook. They ordered.

I pulled open the fridge and found it stocked with basics. Eggs. Milk. Butter. Some vegetables. Bread.

"Okay," I said, pulling out my phone. "I’ll just find a recipe—"

"Step aside," Kael said, gently moving me out of the way.

I blinked. "What?"

He was already pulling out a pan, turning on the stove, cracking eggs into a bowl with practiced ease.

"You know how to cook?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yes..."

"Since when?!"

He paused for just a second, something soft flickering across his face.

"Ivan taught me," he said quietly. "He said a man should be able to feed himself and the people he loves. Something about it being a sign of strength, not weakness, to know how to take care of the basics."

My chest squeezed at the vulnerability in his voice. At the way he said Ivan’s name... like it still hurt, even after all this time.

"He sounds like he was a good man," I said softly. "I’m sure we would have been besties."

"Yes." Kael cleared his throat, focusing back on the eggs. "The best of friends."

I moved closer, watching him work.

"Can I help?"

"Sure. Grab a knife and start cutting those vegetables."

I did, pulling out a cutting board and a very sharp, very intimidating chef’s knife. Olivia would scream in pure horror if she saw me walking towards a knife that big.

I positioned a bell pepper and started cutting.

Shortly after, Kael was behind me.

His chest pressed against my back. His arms came around me, his hands covering mine on the knife.

"Not like that," he murmured, his breath warm on my neck. "You’ll cut yourself."

He guided my hands, repositioning them. "Slowly. Like this. Let the knife do the work."

His voice was low and instructive, but all I could focus on was the heat of him.

The solid weight of his chest against my back. The way his arms caged me in. The smell of him, clean and masculine and intoxicating.

My pulse was racing. My skin felt too hot. My breathing had gone shallow.

"Are you paying attention?" he asked, amusement coloring his voice.

"Not even a little," I admitted breathlessly.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest into my back.

"Try."

But he didn’t move away. If anything, he pressed closer, his hips flush against mine now.

I tried to focus on the knife. On the vegetables. On anything other than the way his proximity was making my entire body hum.

I managed to cut maybe three pieces before I gave up entirely.

"This is impossible," I muttered.

"It’s not impossible. You’re just distracted."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Yours. For being distracting."

I turned my head to glare at him, and found his face inches from mine.

His eyes were dark. Heated. Fixed on my mouth.

"You’re making it worse," I said.

"Good."

He reached up and wiped something off my nose.

Flour.

I didn’t even know how it had gotten there.

His thumb lingered on my lips, tracing the curve of my bottom lip slowly.

My breath hitched.

Without thinking, I flicked my tongue out, licking his thumb.

Playful. Teasing.

His eyes went absolutely black.

"Aria," he said, his voice dropping to something rough and warning.

I grinned and reached into the flour bag, then smeared a handful across his face.

"Oops."

For a second, he just stared at me.

Then his expression shifted into something predatory.

"Oh, you’re going to regret that."

I shrieked and tried to run, but he caught me easily, spinning me around and pinning me against the counter.

We were both laughing, breathless, flour-dusted like we’d been in a snowstorm indoors.

Then the laughter died.

Our eyes locked.

The air shifted. . . playful to charged, light to heavy with want.

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

"Fuck the food," he said, his voice rough.

Then he kissed me.

Hard and claiming and absolutely devastating.

His hands gripped my face, angling me exactly where he wanted me. His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting, demanding.

I kissed him back just as desperately, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.

In one smooth motion, he lifted me and set me on the counter.

I gasped at the cold surface against my thighs, but then his hands were there, warm and possessive, gripping my hips, my thighs, pulling me to the edge.

He stepped between my legs, pressing against me in a way that made my head fall back.

His mouth moved from my lips to my jaw, down my neck, teeth scraping against my pulse point.

"Kael," I gasped.

"I know, Aria. I know."

His hands were everywhere.... in my hair, sliding under the shirt, gripping my ass.

Something clattered to the floor. An ingredient knocked over. Neither of us cared.

All I could feel was him. All I could taste was him. All I could think about was him...his heat pressing into me, the way his body fit so perfectly between my thighs, like we were made for this exact moment.

My heart hammered in my chest, a wild rhythm that matched the pulse throbbing low in my belly.

Kael’s hands were rough yet careful, sliding up my sides under my shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts.

I arched into his touch, needing more, always more with him.

He must have sensed it because his grip tightened just enough to guide me back, easing me down until my back met the cool granite of the counter.

The surface was a shock against my heated skin, but it only heightened everything, the contrast of cold stone and his warm body hovering over me.

His green eyes, those piercing gaze that always saw straight through to my soul, locked onto mine as one hand cupped my breast fully, his palm enveloping the soft swell.

He squeezed gently, reverently, like he was memorizing the weight of me, the way I filled his hand.

"Aria," he murmured, voice husky with want, his thumb circling my nipple. It hardened instantly under his attention, peaking into a tight bud that he teased with slow, deliberate flicks.

Each stroke sent sparks shooting down my spine, making my toes curl against the edge of the counter.

He pinched lightly, rolling the sensitive tip between his fingers, and I bit my lip to stifle a whimper, but it escaped anyway, soft and needy.

His other hand trailed down my stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of my shorts.

He tugged them down halfway, not bothering to fully remove them... just enough to expose me, the fabric bunching at my thighs.

The cool kitchen air kissed my bare skin, raising goosebumps, but it was nothing compared to the rush of vulnerability as he spread my legs wider with his knees, parting my folds with his thumbs.

My pussy was already slick, aching, the wetness glistening in the soft light filtering through the window. I felt exposed, utterly open to him, and heat flooded my cheeks.

"Look at you," Kael growled, his voice low and laced with hunger, those green eyes darkening as they drank me in.

"So wet for me already, firefly. Like your body’s been waiting for this as long as I have."

Before I could respond, before I could even catch my breath, he dove in... like a man starved, like I’d been his fix and he’d been denied for too long.

His mouth descended on me, hot and insistent, his tongue flattening against my clit in one long, slow lick from entrance to peak.

I gasped, my hands flying to his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands as he groaned against me, the vibration humming straight to my core.

He didn’t rush, not at first. His tongue traced lazy circles around my clit, dipping lower to lap at my entrance, gathering my arousal with broad, flat strokes that made my hips buck.

Every movement was deliberate: the way he flicked the tip of his tongue against that swollen nub, quick and teasing, then soothed it with a gentle suck, drawing it between his lips.

He alternated, sucking harder now, his mouth sealing over me as he hollowed his cheeks, pulling at me with just the right pressure to make stars burst behind my eyelids.

I looked down, unable to resist, and met his gaze... those beautiful eyes lifting to hold mine, intense and unyielding, like he was daring me to watch him devour me.

Embarassement crashed over me then, a wave of heat that had nothing to do with arousal.

God, those eyes... they took me back to that first time, in his cramped apartment kitchen, the counter digging into my back just like this.

He’d settled between my legs that night, too, his mouth working me over with the same relentless focus, and I’d known right then I was in trouble.

Deep, irreversible trouble. The man who looked at me like I was his entire world, who touched me like I was fragile and fierce all at once... he’d ruined me for anyone else.

"Kael," I whispered, my voice trembling, but he only hummed in response, the sound sending fresh shivers through me.

His tongue plunged inside then, thrusting in shallow, insistent strokes that mimicked what I craved from him most.

He curled it upward, pressing against my inner walls, tasting me from the inside out, while his nose nudged my clit with every movement.

His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open, thumbs stroking soothing patterns on my skin as if to remind me he had me, always.

I was lost in it, grinding against his mouth now, chasing the building pressure.

My fingers clutched his hair tighter, pulling him closer, and he obliged, his tongue everywhere... lapping at my folds, circling my entrance, then diving back to my clit with rapid flicks that had me panting.

The wet sounds of his mouth on me filled the kitchen, obscene and intimate, mixing with my soft cries.

Pleasure coiled tighter, hotter, every nerve ending alight as he sucked my clit again, harder this time, his tongue vibrating against it.

It hit me like a storm, orgasm crashing over me, my pussy clenching around nothing as I pressed myself fully against his face, riding the waves.

My thighs trembled in his grasp, body arching off the counter, and he didn’t let up, lapping through it all, drawing out every pulse until I was a boneless mess, gasping for air.