Whispering With You

27. It's not a me thing anymore.

Kelly

"YOU'RE A SAVAGE!" SUTTON SCREAMS, SWATTING AT my hands. "What kind person just dives right into a puzzle? A psychopath, that's who."

I chuckle, falling back onto my chair at the dining room table, watching as my girlfriend carefully separates the puzzle pieces, weeding out the edge pieces.

"Everyone knows," she continues, giving me side eye, "that you start with the frame and then you do the middle. Duh. Seriously, who taught you how to do puzzles anyway?"

"My grandma. I already told you she's the one who gave me that closet full of puzzles."

"So you're telling me that your grandma condoned this behavior?" She levels me with a disbelieving look and then returns to sorting the jigsaw puzzle pieces.

"Oh no." I laugh, remembering sitting at the kitchen table with my grandma on rainy days, the fond memories making me smile. "She definitely did not. She'd tell me about the importance of getting the frame put together first, but she gave up after a while and just let me do it however I wanted. I usually picked my favorite part of the picture and tackled that while she worked on the frame. Teamwork, baby."

I smack her ass lightly as she leans over the table to position the box on its side so we can see the picture—a mother golden retriever sitting in an old red pickup truck with her three puppies. She looks over her shoulder, directing a look of warning at me, and I grin at her unapologetically.

When Sutton mentioned entertaining her, I don't think putting a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle together was what she had in mind, but when I told her the hoard of puzzles sitting in the closet were gifts from my late grandma over the years, her gaze softened, and she agreed.

"Fine," she says, falling back onto the chair beside me. "What is your favorite part of this puzzle? What will you be working on while I do the boring but very important work?"

"The dogs, obviously."

We busy ourselves with organizing the pieces, me searching for golden fur while she hunts for the edges. She sits with her socked feet tucked under her, elbows resting on the table. Her hair keeps falling forward as she reaches for pieces, and she gathers it together, twisting it and brushing it over her shoulder so the long locks hang over the left side of her chest.

With her neck now exposed to me, I'm too distracted to concentrate, my task easily forgotten. I circle my hand around the back of her neck, angling her head to the side to allow me space to run my nose along the column, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

"Kelly," she gasps, angling her neck to grant me further access, which I greedily accept, kissing along her soft skin now pebbled with goosebumps.

She squirms away, pushing on my head to give her some space. I reluctantly pull away. I'd rather be nuzzling my girlfriend's neck, but I begrudgingly return my attention to the puzzle.

I feel her eyes on me. "What, baby girl? Are you wanting an apology for being slightly addicted to you? Because I'm not sorry. I'm going to take every chance I get to touch you. I've denied myself for too long." I meet her gaze. "No more. You're finally mine to touch."

"You're so fucking intense," she whispers, then barks out a laugh. "Like I knew this about you. You've always been intense with me. So I shouldn't be surprised. But Jesus, baby, you're intense."

Baby. Fuck, why do I love the sound of that from her lips so much?

Maybe I just like the thought of her claiming me. Being hers.