Chapter 15 #2
She turned back to the stove, snatching the pan from it before it could start burning.
She turned the stove off, sighing dramatically.
“I can’t believe you’ve distracted me twice now!
” She sent him an irate glare, though the laughter, and the slight confusion, in her eyes were impossible to miss.
“Next time, I’m banning you from the kitchen. ”
“That hardly seems fair,” Murphy argued, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The heavy mood evaporated, their conversation returning to the easy banter he enjoyed. Deciding to tease her, he shrugged. “I can’t help it if you find me too sexy to focus.”
Nessa’s mouth popped open in shock, and her grip slipped on the handle she was holding. The pan fell, the bottom connecting to the stovetop with a loud clatter. Sauce exploded from the top, droplets of brown sauce splattering everything nearby, including her shirt.
“Oh!” Nessa exclaimed, looking down at the mess in bewilderment. She let out a relieved breath. “Well, at least the chicken is fine. And there is still plenty of sauce.” She reached for a dishtowel on the counter, but he stopped her.
“I’ll clean it up after we eat,” Murphy assured her, moving to the cabinet on her right. He pulled two dinner plates free before moving to the silverware drawer.
“What? No, I’m the one who made the mess.”
He sent her a cocky grin, inwardly preening that he’d had such an effect on her. “You only made a mess because I pointed out that you find me sexy.”
Her cheeks heated. “Fair point,” she mumbled.
“I’ll grab you a shirt to change into if you want to fix our plates?” he offered. Nessa nodded, and he handed her the items in his hands before making his way toward his bedroom.
It was short work to pull another sweater off the hanger in his closet and return to her. He set the garment onto the counter, taking the loaded plates from her and heading toward the dining room table. “You can change in the kitchen. I won’t look,” he tossed over his shoulder.
No matter how much he wanted to.
He set the plates down on the table, glad he’d thought ahead and had their drinks already set on the placemats. Less than a minute later, Nessa walked into the dining room, and his breath stilled in his lungs, his bear lifting his head and growling in satisfaction.
Lust slammed into him like a battering ram, his cock going instantly erect. His balls ached, heat spreading through his belly as he focused on his mate.
His shirt was massive on Nessa’s slight frame, the hem ending halfway down her thighs.
She’d rolled the sleeves up to her elbows, her tan skin standing out beautifully against the light blue fabric.
She still wore her jeans, but there was something about seeing her in his clothes that called to the most basic, primitive part of him.
In a way, he’d marked her. She was draped in his belongings, covered in his scent.
His.
Nessa shot him a quick, hesitant look. “Is everything okay? You’re growling.”
“What?” he asked, a husky note to his voice. Then he heard it, his chest rumbling as his bear crooned for her again in a low, satisfied rumble.
Full of need.
Full of promise.
“You’re growling, Murphy,” Nessa said again, cocking her head to the side as she sat down across from him. “You said you were feeling better this morning, but is your mating sickness acting up?”
“No, I—” Murphy felt tongue-tied as he struggled to answer. “I like seeing you in my shirt,” he replied gruffly, dropping into his own seat as indecision stirred to life within him, alleviating some of his desire.
Should he have said that? Was he pushing too hard? He grabbed his fork, his fist closing tightly around the metal as he waited for her to say something. It felt like a lifetime passed by, though it was likely only a few seconds of silence at most.
Nessa blinked. “You mean your bear likes seeing me like this,” she corrected carefully.
His jaw clenched, the notion that his bear was the only part of him affected by her presence irritating him beyond belief.
“I meant me,” he declared resolutely, refusing to backtrack now. His gaze met hers, staring into her beautiful brown depths. “I like seeing you in my shirt, Nes. It feels like you’re mine. Like I’ve claimed you. And that makes me feel good.”
Horny as fuck, actually.
If it were possible, Nessa’s cheeks heated further, her eyes widening into saucers before she looked down at her plate. “Oh.”
One word. That was all she said. His mate was never at a loss for words, and yet he’d silenced her with the truth.
Fuck.
He’d screwed up tonight by making her uncomfortable. Why couldn’t he have kept his damned mouth shut? She’d opened up to him, allowed him to see a glimpse into her life before she’d come to Montana, and he’d ruined it by acting like a possessive mate.
I am her mate, damnit.
He gripped his fork so tight, the metal bent, the only outward sign of agitation he’d allow himself to show.
Nessa reached for her glass of water, taking a large gulp. She licked her lower lip, looking nervous as her gaze shifted to him and then back to her plate. “It makes me feel good, too,” she suddenly said in a rush, the words so low he almost missed them.
When they registered, the oddest thing happened.
Murphy remembered a long time ago, back when he’d asked his dad what being mated was like and how he knew he’d fallen in love. His dad had looked at him with a wide smile, and said, ‘That’s easy, Son. My heart isn’t mine anymore. It’s your mother’s, and it beats only for her.’
That’s what Murphy felt now. His heart stuttered in his chest, stalling for a brief moment. And then it picked up the rhythm of Nessa’s, matching it perfectly.
Beating only for her.