~Odette~
His hand came down over my mouth before I'd even got the door shut. "Quiet."
I knew. Five months of this and I knew the whole grammar of it — the way he'd come up behind me in the kitchen and put one hand flat on the small of my back, the way he'd look at the clock, the way he'd say Odie in that flat low voice like he was asking me to pass the salt. That was the signal. That was him saying come on.
Tonight it was the pantry. He turned me by the hip, walked me in backwards past the shelves, and had my shorts down around one ankle before my eyes had adjusted to the dark. No preamble. No kissing. Just his hand between my legs, two fingers pushed straight into me, and a grunt in his throat that meant you're already wet.
"Course you are," he said. "Five minutes ago at the table you
