Chapter 14 #3
It shouldn’t hit me the way it does, as though she really thinks I’ll want her to leave and she’s bracing for it. And my chest aches, because I don’t know how to tell her I definitely don’t want her to fucking go.
Her head falls onto my shoulder, and one hand absently traces the ink on my ribs as she sighs.
“That was…”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Her eyes stay closed. “Don’t get smug.”
“I’m not smug. I’m excellent.”
That gets a soft laugh out of her, which I tuck away like a fucking treasure.
We lie there in the half-dark, her breath dusting my skin with each passing minute. I know I should let her sleep, but I can’t stop watching her.
“You always run this hot?” I ask, brushing a hand along her thigh.
She hums, barely conscious. “Only when I’ve been debauched on a balcony.”
“Noted.”
A sleepy, satisfied smile stretches her lips, and she sighs again, shifting closer and tangling our legs together. Her breath evens out, and I feel her body relax against mine.
And then—for only the second time since I’ve known her—Dr. Carina Park falls asleep in my arms.
But this time, I’m not going to do a damn thing to wake her.
***
I wake to sunlight bleeding through the blinds and the measured rise and fall of her body curled against mine. She’s still here.
Her cheek’s pressed to my chest, her hand resting right against my heart. There’s something in me that wants to hold this moment still, to not reach for the future or think of the past or the thousand reasons why this shouldn’t be happening.
Eventually, I ease out from beneath her and press a kiss to her temple. She murmurs something incoherent but doesn’t wake, and I let her sleep.
Downstairs, I keep it quiet, muttering soft bribes to Gremlin as she squawks for her kibble, twining between my ankles.
I get bacon in the pan and coffee brewing.
Slice some sourdough. Crack eggs into the skillet.
There’s a little jar of honey on the counter from the last pull off my hives—only a couple frames, but it’s good.
The kind of stuff you don’t hand out casually.
I try not to read too much into how good it feels to do this—to make breakfast for someone who stayed.
Her footsteps sound on the stairs just as I’m plating up, and she pads into the kitchen, drowning in one of my T-shirts over leggings. It hangs halfway down her thighs, sleeves swamping her arms. Her hair’s curled from leaving it damp, and her eyes are puffy with sleep.
She’s soft and flushed and fucking gorgeous.
And when she smiles at me, I feel it in my ribs.
I hand her a mug without a word, which she accepts with both hands, holding my gaze over the rim.
“You’re dangerously good at this.”
“Making coffee?”
“Making it hard to leave.”
The breath that gets caught in my throat turns into a cough, and I thump at my chest before turning back to the skillet.
“Hope you’re hungry…”
She hums and slides onto the stool at the island, tucking one leg under the other. “Starving. But only if I get to try some of this honey.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You know that’s backyard-grade premium. You can’t just throw yourself at a man and expect free honey.”
Her eyes glint as she takes a careful sip. “Are you gatekeeping your bees now?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s very… beekeeping-age of you.”
I narrow my eyes. “What the hell is beekeeping-age?”
“You know. Forty plus and emotionally stable.”
“Jesus.”
She grins and reaches for the jar and a teaspoon, popping the lid and dragging the spoon through. I watch as her lips close around it, and her eyes flutter on a moan. “Mmm. It’s good.”
“Told you.”
“Still. I feel like this is the gateway to something. Like you’re five minutes away from ordering a smoker apron and joining a community garden.”
“Gremlin would piss in a community garden for sport.”
“Fair.”
I slide her plate in front of her—eggs scrambled soft, bacon crisp, a thick slice of sourdough. She tears off a piece of crust and dips it directly into the eggs, groaning around the bite. I watch her like a fucking idiot, heart pounding like I haven’t already had her skin under my hands.
“What?” she asks, mouth full.
“Nothing. Just watching you inhale proper food like it’s better than sex.”
She arches a brow. “It’s not better… But it’s close.”
I sit beside her and pretend the way her foot brushes mine under the stool doesn’t mean anything. We eat like that—eggs and honey and toast and soft teasing between bites. Gremlin jumps onto the counter once and is promptly scolded by me.
But eventually, the moment starts to shift. The sunlight gets sharper, and time starts pulling her away from me.
She stands, brushing her hands on her thighs. “I’ve gotta run a few errands, then Heidi and I have a coffee in the afternoon, too. I’ll order a cab.”
“Right.” I nod, hiding the twist in my gut.
When it arrives, I open the front door for her again, the same way I did last night. She pauses at the threshold, glancing up at me with something unreadable in her eyes.
I touch her wrist, thumb brushing along her skin. And before I can stop myself, I lean down and press an unhurried kiss to her mouth. She kisses me back, her hand gently trailing up my arm to clutch my bicep.
When I pull back, I speak before I can overthink it.
“I want to see you again.”
The second it’s out of my mouth, I almost want to take it back. Not because I don’t mean it, because fuck, I mean it too much. More because I’m not sure what she’ll do with it.
I’ve never been good at wanting things I can’t control, but I’d rather say it and risk the fall than stand here pretending I don’t care if she leaves.
She swallows, eyes softly bouncing between mine.
“I know.”
It’s not quite a yes, but it’s more than I had yesterday.
She heads down the path toward her cab, sunlight catching on her hair, and I stay in the doorway, watching her until the car’s fully disappeared down the drive.
When I step back inside and close the door, my heart’s too full and too quiet to make sense of anything. I don’t try to name what I’m feeling.
But I know damn well I can’t pretend it’s nothing.