30. Isabella
CHAPTER THIRTY
ISABELLA
It takes only a few minutes for Nick’s knot to go down, for him to wash my hair and body with the utmost care, and get me settled into bed with a bottle of water.
It’s all comforting and entirely domestic.
But I can’t get the look on his face out of my mind. When he came, he looked at me like I was the missing piece.
Like I’m his home.
I would’ve considered it a fluke, or a trick of the orgasm, but his devotion continued in every action. The way his fingers gently massaged shampoo in my hair, the way he caressed the loofah over my skin with body wash, the way he tucked me against his body to sleep.
Things aren’t supposed to be this easy. You’re supposed to have to claw, scratch, and fight for people to pay attention to you…right?
Or maybe some people just…don’t need to be convinced to give a shit. Maybe Nick doesn’t need to be convinced I’m worthy.
Maybe he just believes I am.
Maybe coming here was the best decision I could ever make, and not just because this job looks good on my resume. Perhaps I just needed to find Nick.
Emotion wells up in my chest, climbing up my throat until it makes my eyes burn, and I snuggle deeper into the arms that hold me so tight.
Maybe this is what it’s supposed to feel like when you’ve found your person.
It’s a slightly terrifying thought—especially after only two dates and a little over a week of knowing each other. But I don’t feel fear.
I’m too safe.
I settle into his arms and drift to sleep, thinking of Nick and Lunamois and Georgie and the life I’m building.
The life I’ve always wanted.
The life that’s finally within my grasp.
Awareness comes slowly. I’m so warm and comfortable that it takes a long time for me to fully awaken and return to my body.
Thick arms corded with muscle band around my chest and belly, and I can’t help but smile.
“Mmm,” Nick’s voice melts into my ear like warm honey. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I reply. A whiff of something sweet in the air has me finally opening my eyes. “What’s that smell?”
“Freshly brewed tea and chocolate chip pancakes.”
I lift my head at that, straining to look at the bedside table. Sure enough, a steaming mug of tea and a stack of pancakes sit on a wooden tray.
“You did all that?” I ask, twisting as much as he’ll allow so I can see his face.
His thumb caresses my cheek before dropping a soul-stealing kiss to my lips. “Of course I did.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, at a loss for words.
I’ve been experiencing a lot of firsts with Nick: the first time someone made me dinner, the first time someone else made me come, the first time having my hair washed, and the first time getting breakfast in bed. I wonder what other firsts we can experience together.
“This is the bare minimum,” he insists, rolling me underneath him. “I plan on getting you used to this kind of treatment.”
My fingers get lost in his soft brown locks. “I believe you.”
“Eat,” he demands, the words low and gravelly. “Eat before I can’t stop myself from touching you.”
There’s a delicious ache in every part of my body from the aggressive way he took me, but it still yearns for more.
Wetness slicks my cunt as I rub against him. My nipples harden to sharp points that graze the light smattering of hair on his chest.
“Maybe I need to work up an appetite first.” I bite my lip as he lowers himself, letting me feel some of his weight.
His nose trails along my cheek, down to my ear, and neck. To the spot he always seems to come back to, right at the juncture between shoulder and neck. “I can handle that.”