“We’ll probably fall through the floor in a few minutes,” Zahariev said as I settled against his chest. “Hey, no one’s allowed to insult my apartment except me,” I said. Zahariev chuckled, his arms tightening around me. “I’m not insulting it,” he said, kissing my neck. “I’m quite fond of it.” “Even the bed?” I asked. He’d bitched earlier about a spring digging into his shoulder blade. “Only because it’s where I fucked you first,” he said.
