Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Right Now The Best
Maverick
Good. She needed rest. She slept soundly, wrapped up in the bedsheets, looking like some blonde-haired goddess—it was the only thing that seemed fitting to call her.
Last night… She’d been perfection. Complete perfection as she’d shattered apart from my touch.
My tongue. Just the thought—damn, I’d take her right now.
The irrational side of me wanted to. It had wanted to last night, and now it all but bellowed to have her.
But the rational side of me won out in the end.
I hadn’t done what I’d done in the hopes of compensation.
I’d done it because it was what she’d needed, and I was more than happy to give.
Besides, I wasn’t going to wake her up for that.
There’d be other opportunities. More chances.
Casting a final glance her way, I left her in the room, heading for the kitchen. I wondered if she was a breakfast person. What all had she’d eaten yesterday? She’d seemed to like everything but the eggs.
No eggs, then…how about pancakes?
I set to work mixing up the batter and getting some bacon fried up, losing track of time as I worked. It was what I liked so much about cooking. I was so focused on creating something, that my mind sort of…blanked on all the rest.
I’d just about finished up the last of the pancakes when a soft touch drifted down my shoulder and settled at the small of my back. My breath hitched in my throat.
“Mornin’.” Cheyenne’s smokey voice was thick with sleep.
I turned to face her, my heart pitter-pattering against my ribcage.
Must’ve gone through my drawers.
She wore one of my t-shirts. I wasn’t one who typically liked people messing with my things, but it was something I’d overlook because of how goddamn gorgeous she looked in my shirt.
Her hair spilled down her back in wild ringlets, her turquoise eyes heavy still.
Her sun-kissed skin all but glowed against the white fabric.
I pulled her to me, desire sparking to life in my veins.
That indecent, irrational side of me began bellowing again.
I didn’t have the will to resist this time.
Not as my lips dipped to hers. She didn’t seem to mind, though.
She welcomed it even. Met me stroke for stroke, even sliding her hands up along my shoulders before snaking them around my neck.
God, I wanted her. Right here. Right now.
I was just about to grab her and hoist her onto the countertop when she froze in my grasp, a strangled groan escaping her.
“Oh, God. I—” She tore from my grip, dashing through the living room before disappearing down the hall.
The guest bathroom slammed shut a moment later followed by the muffled sounds of vomiting.
I frowned. That was the second time she’d been sick. I wondered why. Was it from smoke inhalation? Stress? She’d seemed okay yesterday, though she’d mentioned having a headache in the evening. I’d have to keep an eye on her.
I debated whether to go check on her or leave her be, when she finally came back out a few moments later.
“Sorry.” She sighed. “I um… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
I glanced between her and the food before offering her a questioning glance. You hungry?
She pushed a stray curl off her face and nodded as if she understood. “Yes, please. I’m starvin’.”
Starving was an understatement. She all but wolfed down four pancakes and almost half a pound of bacon. Even as I ate my own breakfast, I half expected her to run off again and throw it all up. But she never did.
We remained in relative silence as we ate—obviously, since I didn’t have anything to say.
I could tell she did, though from the unspoken questions burning in her eyes.
In the end, she just focused on her food.
Guilt ate at me. I hated that I couldn’t ease her worries, her fears.
But talking wasn’t my strong suit even on the best of days.
“So,” she finally said, grabbing her mug of coffee and pressing it to her lips. “Can I help you with anythin’? Cleanin’? Workin’ horses? What do y’all do here at the Mercenary Ranch?”
I gestured at her empty plate; my brow knit in question. I didn’t want to rush her off if she wanted more.
“Oh, I’m done, thank you. It was amazing,” she replied after a few seconds of trying to understand what I asked.
Nodding, I rose from my chair and grabbed her plate, placing it into the dishwasher along with the other dirty dishes.
“You didn’t have to do that.” She frowned at me when I waved her off. After I’d finished putting away the last bit of leftovers, I grabbed her hand and led her outside.
If she wanted to see what I did for a living, I’d gladly show her.