Chapter 29 #2
I mean, I’m not opposed, but I was expecting to be yelled at, not to make plans to bring everyone to meet my long-lost, possibly abusive dad.
“I don’t think you should go alone.” Leo shrugs. “Just to be careful.”
“Okay, if you think that’s best. I don’t... I don’t know if I’m ready yet.” I pick nervously at my cuticles.
“Take your time,” he murmurs, leaning down and brushing his lips against my forehead. “You feeling better?”
I give him a jerky nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
“Yeah.” My shoulders have stopped trembling.
“I don’t want to leave you, but I also want to give you privacy to change,” he murmurs.
“If you could... maybe wait outside the bathroom?”
Leo always seems to know exactly what I need, even before I realize I need it.
“Of course,” he says, stepping outside the bathroom door. He leaves it open a crack so the two of us can still talk.
“I don’t think we’re at the stage in our relationship where I feel comfortable with you watching me take off my sticky bra. I feel like that’s post-six-month-anniversary material.”
“Is it really that weird?” he calls from outside the bathroom.
I peel off the bra, holding it outside the door and waving it around. It flops about.
“Whoa! Wow, okay, I’ll admit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those things.”
“It looks like a chicken cutlet, doesn’t it?” I giggle, setting it down on the counter and sliding my dress off.
“I wasn’t going to say it, but now that you have, it really does.”
I slip on Eli’s massive t-shirt. The fabric nearly swallows me whole, falling a little off the shoulder and hitting me right above my knees.
“Ready!” I say, throwing the door open.
Leo looks me up and down, his eyes lighting up with a spark that sends a wave of nerves fluttering through me.
“Eli’s gonna love it. Let’s go get some breakfast. I think the two of them are trying to cook.”
I’m assaulted by the overwhelming smell of bacon the moment the two of us step out of the hallway into the main open space of the apartment. More specifically, burning bacon.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Beck curses.
“Don’t throw that shit down the sink,” Eli growls.
“But it’s smoking like it’s going to go up in flames! Where the hell am I supposed to put it!”
I let out a soft giggle, making the two of them whip around.
“Ughh, how embarrassing!” Beck groans, dramatically slumping over the countertop with his head in his hands. “Shit, now my hair is going to smell like bacon!”
“I think all of you is going to smell like bacon for a little bit,” I tease.
“We don’t cook very often.” Beck winces.
“I can see that.” There’s a ridiculously massive pile of bacon, some of it still soft-looking and some of it stiff and dark, a couple of shades away from being burnt to a crisp. It’s also the only thing they seem to have made so far. “What do you guys normally do?”
“There’s a cafe downstairs that makes really good breakfast sandwiches,” Leo suggests.
“Let’s do breakfast sandwiches,” Beck sighs. “I don’t think the kitchen will survive us trying to make the rest of breakfast.”
As the two of them make plans to go down to grab us food together, Eli stands stock-still, his gaze never leaving me.
“Want to come with us, Eli?” Beck asks. He freezes the moment he sees the intensity in Eli’s gaze. “Oops, nevermind.”
“I’m fine,” Eli says, his voice pitched so low it seems to vibrate through my chest.
“I’m cool too,” I add, my voice taking on a breathy quality.
I meet Leo’s gaze as he and Beck make their way to the elevator. He flashes me a knowing wink.
There’s a beat of heavy silence, then the elevator doors shut behind the two of them.
“That’s my shirt,” Eli grunts.
“It is,” I say, awkwardly leaning against the kitchen island.
Where am I supposed to put my hands? It’s not like I have any pockets to nervously shove them in.
“Leo gave it to me, he thought—”
“I like it.”
Those three words hang between us like a confession.
He likes the sight of me in nothing other than his shirt.
Great.
Good information.
I mean, I like wearing his shirt. I catch ambient whiffs of his blood orange scent every time I move. It’s soothing.
“I like it too.” God, could I be any more awkward?
“Oh? Do you now?” He takes a step closer to me, so the only thing between us is the island countertop.
“’Course I do, I mean, I don’t think it’s that crazy that I like the idea that I’m this tiny dainty fairy,” I say, holding up the hem of his t-shirt like it isn’t obvious that it’s absolutely massive on me. “You’re like... massive.”
His expression shifts from neutral and observant to a smug sort of satisfaction instantly.
My awkward commentary on his physique seems to be all the encouragement he needs, because he’s stalking his way around the kitchen island until he’s towering in front of me.
“You are,” he growls.
“I’m what?”
“Tiny.”
My brows draw down automatically as my mom’s words fill my mind in a drive-by confidence execution.
“I mean, I wouldn’t say that—”
My words die on my tongue when he leans down and grips my thighs, effortlessly lifting me up.
“What the hell!” I squeak out, throwing my arms around his neck to hold my balance.
“Tiny, see?” He makes a show of holding me up with one hand gripping my lower thighs.
A hand that’s awful close to my ass. And to my pussy.
Fuck.
Wow.
Okay, who knew I was so into being manhandled?
My chamomile perfume explodes out of me, rich and thick with the sweet undertone of honey.
He lets out a satisfied growl, his lips quirking into the most obnoxious, smug expression in the world.
“Shut up,” I say, pressing a hand into his face.
“I didn’t even say anything,” he huffs, rolling his eyes.
“You didn’t need to. You were thinking it.”
“Oh? And what did you think I was thinking about?”
“About how you were right. But you’re only right because you probably work out like crazy, on top of being an alpha. If I weighed more, you wouldn’t be as smug.”
He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“For someone so consumed by right and wrong all the time... You’re wrong. That wasn’t what I was thinking about.”
His words and hot breath send a shiver running down my spine.
I jerk my head back, trying to meet his gaze again. It’s so hard to tell when he’s serious if I can’t see his face.
“Technically, you were wrong on both counts.”
“Both counts?”
“It wouldn’t matter if you weighed more,” he shrugs, casually.
“What, because it’s no big deal for someone as big and strong as you?” My words are practically dripping with sarcasm.
“Exactly.” His grin is wide and toothy. He has no right being as attractive as he is when he smiles, not when he’s a scowly, growly asshole most of the time.
“You can put me down now,” I huff, rolling my eyes. “You’ve made your point.”
He wordlessly sets my ass down on the corner of the counter, immediately stepping forward so my legs bracket his wide hips.
It leaves me open and vulnerable, considering the only thing I’m wearing underneath his t-shirt are my panties.
Panties that are quickly growing uncomfortable from the slick that’s starting to build.
“I’m only going to say this once, Princess,” he growls, his hands falling to my hips.
“Say what?”
“I want in.”
“In?”
“You’ve got Beck and Leo wrapped around your pretty, manicured pinky finger. I want in.”
I rest my hands against his chest, and I’m sure he flexes his muscles just to show off.
“You’re not... worried about how this will affect you and Beck?”
He leans down, and his delicious blood orange fills my senses.
“Maybe there’s a way we can have our cake and eat it too,” he breathes out, so close that our lips are almost touching.
“Okay,” I breathe out.
And then, his lips crash down onto mine.