[̲̅$̲̅(̲̅Jay Jay's POV)̲̅$̲̅]
I was breathless, my head spinning as the towel threatened to slip. I tried to pull back just enough to tease him, but my voice came out as a shaky, broken whisper."How am I supposed to... to response to you... when you're biting me like that?" I gasped, my face flaming. "You're supposed to be listening to my brother's threats, not making them come true!"
But Keifer didn't care about the rules anymore. He didn't care about the helicopter or the four angry men coming to claim me. He let out a low, predatory growl and surged back in, and this time, he literally devoured me.It wasn't just a kiss, it felt like he was eating me alive.
He claimed my mouth with a hunger that was terrifying and beautiful all at once. His tongue was everywhere, deep and demanding, and as we tangled together, I realized I couldn't even taste myself anymore—I was tasting only him. His heat, his possessiveness, his scent... it was like he was marking every inch of my soul.I felt so small in his arms, a "marshmallow" being completely consumed by her "lion." My knees finally gave out, and he caught me, his arms locking around my waist to keep me from falling.
"You taste like mine, Jay Jay," he rasped against my lips, his breath hot and ragged. "And I don't care who lands on that lawn. No one is taking this taste away from me."
"You taste like mine, Jay Jay," Keifer rasped against my lips, his breath hot and ragged. "And I don't care who lands on that lawn. No one is taking this taste away from me."
He meant it. I could feel the sheer, stubborn possessiveness in the way his arms tightened around me, pinning my towel-clad body against the heat of his chest. His hands, usually so careful and steady, were restless now. One hand stayed locked at the small of my back, while the other began a slow, torturous descent.
He didn't stop at my waist. His palm slid down the soft fabric of the towel, grazing the curve of my hip before finding the bare skin of my thigh. I let out a shaky, broken gasp as his fingers began to travel higher, tracing a path toward my core with a deliberate, burning slowness that made my vision blur.
"Keifer..." I whimpered, my fingers clenching into the fabric of his shirt. The "lion" was truly out of his cage now, and for a second, I almost let myself get lost in the heat.
But then, my stomach let out a tiny, traitorous growl, and the image of a golden, glistening jar of honey flashed through my mind.
"Stop!" I gasped, suddenly pressing my hands against his chest to create an inch of space.
He froze, his fingers hovering right at the edge of my most sensitive skin. His eyes were dark, clouded with a heavy, primal hunger as he looked down at me. "What? Jay, what's wrong?"
I pouted, trying to regain my breath while my face burned a bright, indignant red. "The honey, Keifer! You promised! You've been biting me and eating me for twenty minutes, and I haven't had a single drop of my healing nectar!"
Keifer blinked, the intense, predatory look in his eyes flickering as he processed my words. He let out a long, huffed breath that was half-laugh and half-groan of frustration.
"You're stopping me... for honey?" he asked, his voice still deep and rough. "Right now?"
"Yes! My soul is still traumatized from the stairs!" I huffed, clutching my towel tighter as if that would hide my racing heart. "The lion had his feast, now the marshmallow needs her sugar! No honey, no more kisses!"
Keifer stared at me for a beat, shaking his head as he realized I was dead serious. The "fertile masterpiece" had spoken, and her tantrums were more powerful than his lust.
"Fine," he muttered, leaning down to capture my lips in one last, biting kiss that tasted like a promise. "I'll get your honey."
Keifer finally returned, not with just a jar, but with a crystal bowl filled with that thick, golden organic honey I'd been craving. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in my fluffy towel, swinging my legs like a restless kid.
"Finally my honeyyyyy!" I chirped, reaching for the spoon.
But Keifer didn't give it to me. Instead, he dipped his finger into the amber liquid and brought it to my lips. I didn't even hesitate—I closed my eyes and took it, the sweetness exploding on my tongue, finally soothing the "trauma" of the last two days.
"So good," I mumbled, my eyes still closed as I savoured the taste.
I expected him to give me the rest of the bowl, but suddenly, I felt his hand cup the back of my neck. I opened my eyes just in time to see him leaning in, his gaze fixed on my honey-coated lips.
"You're right," he whispered, his voice dangerously low. "It does look good."
Before I could protest, he crashed his lips onto mine. He didn't want the honey from the jar,he wanted it from me. He began to lick the sweetness right off my mouth, his tongue sweeping over my lips and then deep inside, swirling with mine until the taste of the honey and the taste of him became one inseparable, sugary heat.
"Keifer!" I gasped into his mouth, my hands clutching his forearms. "That's... that's my medicine!"
"I'm just helping you finish it," he murmured against my damp skin, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips to catch every last drop. He was devouring the sweetness with a slow, rhythmic intensity that made my heart do somersaults.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his own lips glistening and his eyes dark with that familiar, predatory spark. "Much better than the jar," he rasped, his thumb catching a stray golden drop on my chin and licking it off his own finger.
I was a mess—flushed, sticky with honey, and completely breathless. My "lion" wasn't just feeding me, he was making sure that even my favorite treat tasted like him.
"You're a thief," I pouted, though I was leaning into him. "A honey-stealing lion."
"And you're a sweet marshmallow," he countered, leaning down to nuzzle my neck. "And I think I'm still hungry."
[̲̅$̲̅(̲̅Keifer's POV)̲̅$̲̅]
I stood outside the bathroom door, my knuckles rapping against the wood for the third time. After the honey, the tantrums, and the chaos of the morning, I'd told her to take a soak to help those bruises on her ribs, but it had been way too quiet for way too long.
"Jay? Jay Jay, don't tell me you're making a potion in there," I called out, a smirk tugging at my lips.
No answer. Just the faint, rhythmic sound of water gently lapping against marble.
My smirk faded, replaced by that familiar, sharp prickle of anxiety. After her "karate" fall on the stairs, I wasn't taking any chances. I didn't care about modesty—I'd already stripped her down and memorized every inch of her skin to check her injuries earlier. There were no secrets left between us.
I turned the handle and pushed the door open. "Jay, if you're pulling a prank—"
I stopped dead. The steam was still swirling in the air, smelling of lavender and expensive oils, but the "bratty marshmallow" wasn't playing a prank.
She was fast asleep.
I had to bite back a laugh. She was slumped against the back of the massive tub, a mountain of white bubbles clinging to her shoulders like a coat. Her head was tilted to the side, her lips slightly parted in that tiny pout she always had when she was deep in dreamland. A single bubble was wobbling precariously on the tip of her nose.
"You've got to be kidding me," I whispered, shaking my head. Only Jay Jay could turn a medical soak into a nap time.
I walked over, kneeling by the edge of the tub. The water was starting to get lukewarm. I reached out, gently blowing the bubble off her nose. She didn't even flinch, she just let out a soft, wet snuffle and shifted deeper into the suds.
She looked so remarkably peaceful, her pale skin glowing under the bathroom lights. I looked at the faint red marks on her ribcage—the ones I'd kissed and licked the honey off of just an hour ago. She was my masterpiece, even when she was catching flies in a bathtub.
"Come on, little koala," I murmured, grabbing a fresh, oversized towel and holding it ready.
I reached into the water, sliding one arm under her knees and the other behind her back. She was warm and slippery, smelling like sugar and flowers. As I lifted her out, she finally stirred, but she didn't wake up. Instead, she just instinctively reached out, her wet arms wrapping around my neck, pinning me to her as she tucked her face into the crook of my shoulder.
"Mm... honey..." she mumbled against my skin, her subconscious still stuck on her snacks.
"Later, Jay," I breathed, wrapping the towel around her and holding her tight against my chest.
I carried her out of the bathroom, the weight of her the only thing that felt real. The brothers could keep threatening me through the phone all they wanted—no one was coming to this island tonight. It was just me and my sleeping, bubble-covered girl.
I laid her down on the bed, but the "little koala" wouldn't let go, her damp fingers still tangled in my shirt. I managed to gently untangle her and grabbed the hairdryer, keeping it on the lowest, warmest setting so the noise wouldn't startle her.
As I sat on the edge of the mattress, I began to dry her hair. The soft strands slipped through my fingers like silk, smelling of lavender and that addictive sweetness that was just her.
She let out a tiny, contented sigh, her head lolling toward my hand as if she were chasing the warmth of the air. Even in her "honey coma," she was a magnet for affection.
Once her hair was a soft, fluffy halo around her face, I set the dryer aside. I reached for her favorite silk nightgown—the one that was almost as soft as her skin—and eased it onto her with a patience I didn't know I had. I caught a glimpse of the fading scratches on her ribcage and couldn't resist pressing one last, lingering kiss there.
"You're a handful, Jay Jay," I whispered, pulling the heavy duvet up to her chin and tucking the edges around her shoulders like a cocoon.
She let out a soft mumble, something that sounded suspiciously like "more waffles," before burying her nose into the pillow. I climbed in beside her, pulling her small, warm frame directly onto my chest. Her legs immediately tangled with mine, pinning me down as if she were afraid I'd disappear if she let go.
I looked down at her—my "fertile masterpiece," my bratty marshmallow, finally quiet. The brothers could keep calling and making their empty threats; the lion had his prize, and she was fast asleep in the only place she was ever meant to be.