Chapter 10 #2
"Last night," he starts. "You kept saying... you kept calling me yours."
"You are."
"But we barely know each other. It's been less than a week since I walked into your bar."
I shrug. "My lion knew the second you walked through that door. Soaking wet, scared, wearing a cardigan with cats on it. He knew."
"That simple?"
"That simple."
He's quiet for a moment, trailing his fingers through the water. I grab a strawberry from the tray I brought in, hold it to his lips. He takes it automatically, chewing while he thinks.
"What if I'm not ready?" he asks finally. "For being yours, I mean. For all of this."
Something cold slides through my chest. My lion goes very still. "Are you saying—"
"No!" Water sloshes as he sits up too fast, wincing at the movement.
"No, I want—god, Knox, I want to be yours.
That's not the question. It's just fast. A week ago I didn't even know you existed.
Now I have your bite mark on my shoulder that you said is going to scar, and I can barely walk, and I—" He breaks off, laughing a little helplessly.
"I called in sick to work in my head about fifteen times last night.
That's not like me. I don't do this. I don't fall this fast."
The cold thing in my chest thaws. "You're falling?"
"I just told you I'm considering workplace abandonment because you're good at sex. Yes, Knox. I'm falling."
I lean in, pressing my forehead to his. "Then fall. I'll catch you."
"That's very smooth."
"I meant it."
"I know." He kisses me again, brief and warm. "That's the terrifying part."
I grab another strawberry, feed it to him because I need to do something with my hands that isn't pulling him out of the tub and carrying him back to bed. "So what do you want?"
"I want to see where this goes. I want to keep doing.
.. this." He gestures vaguely. "The sex, obviously, god yes the sex.
But also the bath thing. And the way you look at me like I matter.
I want to do it right, though. Dating. Getting to know each other.
Not just falling into bed every time we're in the same room. "
"We can do that."
"Yeah?"
"We can do whatever you need, sunshine."
His breath catches at the endearment. "Okay. So we're dating. Officially."
"We're dating," I confirm. "And I'm going to take you to dinner. And to whatever weird museum exhibits you want to see. And anywhere else you want to go."
"And also to bed."
"And also to bed. Frequently."
He laughs, bright and warm, and something in my chest settles into place. "Deal."
He soaks for another twenty minutes while I feed him grapes and clementine segments and make him drink more water. He protests that he can feed himself, but he doesn't actually stop me, just opens his mouth obediently every time I hold something up.
Likes being taken care of. Good to know.
Eventually the water starts cooling, and he admits he should probably get out before he prunes permanently. I help him up, wrap him in the biggest towel I own, and dry him off with more gentleness than I usually have in me.
"I don't have clothes," he realizes. "Everything I was wearing is... somewhere."
"Floor. Multiple locations." I'd been enthusiastic about getting him undressed. "I've got shirts."
"Your shirts will be enormous on me."
"Good." I meet his eyes. "Then everyone will know who you belong to."
He shivers. Not from cold. I file that away: likes being claimed publicly. Interesting. Useful.
I find him my smallest t-shirt—a black one that still hangs off his shoulders and exposes his collarbones. His jeans from yesterday are salvageable, though I'll need to text Vaughn about borrowing something better fitting for his actual commute.
He looks thoroughly debauched even dressed.
The shirt collar is too wide, showing off the marks on his neck in all their purple glory.
His lips are still swollen. He moves carefully, obviously sore, and something in me wants to apologize for that at the same time that my lion wants to preen about it.
Mine. Everyone who sees him today will know he's mine.
"Stop looking at me like that," he says, but he's smiling.
"Like what?"
"Like you want to eat me."
"I do want to eat you. Already did, actually." I let my grin go sharp. "Several times."
His face goes scarlet. "Knox!"
"What? It's true." I pull him close, careful of his sore body, and he comes willingly into my arms. "And I'm going to do it again. Tonight. After your shift."
"I might need a day to recover."
"Then tomorrow."
"Okay."
"And you'll stay this weekend."
"I have to work Saturday—"
"After work. You'll come here."
He looks up at me, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "Are you asking or telling?"
"Which do you prefer?"
He considers for a moment. Then he goes up on his toes, kisses me soft and sweet, and murmurs against my lips: "Telling. Definitely telling."
My lion rumbles with satisfaction. Perfect. He's absolutely perfect.
"I need coffee before I go anywhere," he says. "And maybe pants that actually fit? These are going to be awkward on public transit."
"You're not taking public transit." I'm already texting Vaughn about borrowing clothes, then Jason about driving. "Jason will take you."
"You don't have to—"
"I take care of what's mine, Toby." I tip his chin up so he meets my eyes. "That means making sure you get to work safe and on time. Let me do this."
Something soft moves through his expression. "Okay."
"Okay," I echo. "Now go get coffee. There's a pot in the kitchen. I need to shower."
"You need to shower," he agrees, wrinkling his nose. "You smell like sex."
"Good."
He laughs, shoves at my chest without any real force behind it, and turns toward the door. I watch him go—moving gingerly, wearing my shirt like a brand, covered in marks that won't fade for days.
My lion settles, content for the first time in longer than I can remember.
Mine.
I head for the shower, already counting down the hours until I can have him again.