Sugar and Spice

Chapter 7

We finish eating and he's right, I feel worlds better for it. He really is a good cook. I tell him so.

"It's nothing,"he says, modestly. "I could do better, but it'll do, for now."

I laugh and hand him my plate, laying back onto the bed, knees bent and my feet dangling off the floor. I rub my full stomach, feeling slightly sleepy from eating as much as I did. He places the plate next to his own on the stand and lays back beside me. I'm sure his feet don't dangle.

"I just want to lay here, forget the entire world above me," I say wistfully, looking at the ceiling. Jason chuckles.

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" he answers, his hands on his chest. I turn to look at him and he turns to me in return. I smile and look back at the ceiling.

"Yeah... Too bad that's not how the world works, though." I sigh and place my hands behind my head, turning to him once more. He's still looking at me.

"Thank you. I am quite hard to deal with sometimes. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate you. What are your plans now?" I ask. Remember, bold.

He takes a deep breath and sits up, turning his body and laying back onto his side beside me. I turn to face him as well.

"I have no plans. Honestly, as long as you need me, I'm here."

Is it weird that I want to kiss him again? Like REALLY kiss him? Outwardly I reveal nothing of this crazy thought.

"But do you even have anything to sustain your stay? I mean, where is your luggage or anything of your own?" I ask, not that I'm complaining; he could stay in a towel for the rest of his life for all I'm concerned.

Jason lifts his body up off the bed and walks out of the room, leaving me speechless and confused. I begin to sit up when he walks back in, shutting the door behind him and returning with a small smile on his face when he sees my confused one.

"You reminded me to switch my laundry, actually," he says, returning to his previous position beside me. "My actual luggage is in the trunk of my car, but I don't feel like getting out to get it." I feign shock.

"You do laundry, too!? Is there anything you can't do, Mister Momoa?" I say, laughing.

He laughs with me, placing a hand on my hip.

"I couldn't stay at the hotel," he says, quieting my laughter immediately. I blush but he continues.

"I couldn't stop myself from wanting to kill that bastard," he raises his eyes to look into mine. "I couldn't stay away from you. Those are things Mister Momoa cannot do."

Oh my Jesus.

His hand travels off my hip to the curve of my waist and down the small of my back, his eyes asking permission while I begin to breath hard with anticipation. The good kind, not the "oh my god he's going to kill me" kind. My inaction gives him all the permission he needs. He pulls himself closer to me while pulling me closer against him and my eyes close as our lips meet once again.

Our kiss is slow and lazy, we take the time to explore each others mouths with each passing of our tongues. Jason lays back and pulls me with him, my legs following suit and landing on either side of him. His hands travel up and down my back and we taste each other, leaving no crevice in our mouths untouched. He grasps my hair with both hands and pulls me into his kiss, hard and unforgiving and my heart soars.

He pushes himself off the bed into a sitting position with me on his lap, never moving from his body and he breaks the kiss, still holding me tight, and begins trailing his kisses to my chin and down my neck. I gasp as he lingers there, kissing my throat, licking and nibbling the sides of my neck as though he can't get enough of the taste of my skin.