“Seen enough?”
I nodded, and we stepped back out into the street, the door closing behind us. I glanced at the bag in his hand.
And then it hit me.
This wasn’t just something he owned, or something he did.
It was part of him.
What would it feel like to trust him with it?
Chapter Sixteen
Stefan
Maybe it was seeinghimself surrounded by toys and leather, or reminiscing about our morning fuck, or any number of fragments that were taking up space in his head.
All I knew was that the moment I closed my front door, Kieran launched, our lips collided, and he stole my breath away in a kiss that left me raw and needing.
Then he dropped to his knees in front of me, popped the button on my jeans, unzipped them, and I truly forgot to breathe.
I cupped his chin, tilting his face towards mine.
“You… you don’t have to do this, you know. I mean, we don’t need to get physical every time we?—”
He rose quickly, stopping my words with his hand. “But Iwantthis. All the way back here, all I could think about was getting to enjoy one of my favourite things.” Then he narrowed his gaze. “Mention raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens, and you’re a dead man.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that was the last thing on my mind, but he chose that moment to lower himself to his knees once more, tug my jeans past my hips, and take me into his warm mouth.
I groaned and cradled his head in my hands, sliding deeper.
“Iwasgoing to mention that line about doing something good when I was younger…”
His eyes snapped up, glinting.
“But I don’t think I’ll bother,” I added quickly. Then I closed my eyes and lost myself in an eager mouth and restless fingers.
Judging by the speed with which he brought me to climax, Kieran was proving himself a very apt student.
“Oh God, look at all this.”
I loved the note of awe in his voice. I stood behind him, my hands on his shoulders as he stared at the contents of my wardrobe—my leather wardrobe. Trousers hung on one side, shirts and jackets on the other. The bottom held racks filled with boots, and belts lay in coils in drawers.
I pointed to the bed. “Sit.”
Kieran arched his eyebrow. “I feel like a student about to be graded.”
“Close—you’re about to be schooled in how to dress.”
He laughed but did as I asked, watching me as I worked my way through the racks, selecting items before laying them on the bed next to him. I didn’t rush. This wasn’t about throwing something together.
What he wore mattered.
What he felt when he saw his reflection for the first time mattered too.
I selected each piece with care: a black shirt, short sleeves, structured enough to hold its shape; leather jeans, well cut, but not ostentatious; a belt; and finally, a pair of boots that I prayed would fit.
I didn’t want it all to feel like a costume.