Chapter 12 Trouble Before Breakfast
Trouble Before Breakfast
Olivia
Sunlight crept into the bedroom, warming its way across the quilt before finding the curve of Vek’s shoulder and finally brushing my skin. The heat pulled a breath out of me before my mind caught up.
Then my body reminded me what we’d done.
A tender pull settled deep in my thighs, another ache low in my belly. The memory hit with enough force to make me bury my face in the pillow.
“Lord have mercy,” I muttered, my voice rasping like it had been used too well.
Vek lay beside me in an easy sprawl, turned toward me without meaning to.
One arm above his head, the other across his chest. Peace softened his features—something I’d never seen when he was awake and bracing for danger.
His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm.
June Bug had her belly pressed against his ribs.
Boone guarded my robe like he’d been sworn in as security.
Lavender clung to the sheets, mingled with the faint warmth we’d poured into them hours ago.
My hips protested when I shifted, sharp enough that a sound slipped out before I could stop it.
The peaceful set of his face shifted at once—instinct waking before the rest of him. His hand reached across the quilt, searching for me even though his eyes were still closed.
June Bug grumbled, abandoned her post, and flopped onto the floor. Sunlight hit Vek’s jaw as he shifted, washing warm over the soft fur there.
For a moment, I just let myself look at him.
The faint parting of his lips. The dark sweep of his fur, messy from sleep. People would call him a monster, but here, with the morning resting on his skin, he looked more human than most men ever bothered to be.
He moved closer. His knee brushed mine beneath the quilt, and a warm spark traveled straight through me. The ache softened into something else. Something bold enough to speed my heart.
His eyes opened slowly, the morning pulling him awake in slow pieces. When his gaze found mine, he seemed to relax.
“Liv,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
The way he said my name loosened something deep in my chest. “Morning,” I whispered.
A small, sleepy smile tugged at his mouth. “Morning.”
I tried to sit, but my hips made their displeasure known. A hiss escaped before I could swallow it.
In a heartbeat, he was propped on one elbow, fully awake, eyes sharp with worry. “Hurt?”
“Not hurt,” I rushed out. “Just sore.”
He took that in, his brow tightening in a way that carried concern and something warmer beneath it. “From me?”
Heat crawled up my neck. “Yes. And don’t look proud.”
He tried to hide the smile, but it still showed at the corner of his mouth. “I was gentle.”
“You were. But there’s only so gentle you can be when you’re…” my hand waved at all of him “…you.”
That did something to him. Not smugness—heat. His body kicked up its own warmth. He moved closer, his hand slipping beneath the quilt until his palm found my waist. His thumb stroked the skin there, slow enough to make my breath catch.
The ache changed instantly. Desire worked its way up through the soreness like it had only been waiting for a touch.
As though he felt the change, his gaze deepened, need flaring in his golden irises.
“You need rest,” he murmured, though the stroke of his thumb told a different story.
“I don’t want rest.”
Whatever held him still released at once.
He leaned in until our foreheads touched. “You ache.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “But not in a way that wants space.”
Breath leaving in one quiet exhale, he slid his hand down the curve of my thigh beneath the quilt.
“More?”
A shiver ran through me. “Not fast,” I said softly. “But yes.”
He moved before the words even finished leaving my mouth, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. The air between us thickened, charged with wanting.
He kissed me, coaxing me awake all over again. When I tugged him closer, the kiss deepened, heat blooming in my stomach.
“Olivia,” he murmured against my mouth, the sound thick and warm.
My fingers curled in his fur. “Come here.”
He eased over me with the same care he’d given me last night, bracing himself so his weight didn’t crush me. His chest brushed mine, fur warm against bare skin. His mouth traveled down my throat, then closed gently around my nipple. I arched into him, breath breaking.
A quiet rumble vibrated through his chest. He nudged forward again, letting himself stroke through the wetness in long, steady passes that made my thighs tighten around him.
“You feel ready,” he murmured in my ear.
“I am. I want you.”
When he kissed me again, the kind of kiss that stole thought, his hips shifted, guiding the head of his cock to my entrance.
The first push stretched me open, Heat flooded my belly as I dragged my nails lightly along his shoulders. “More. All of you.”
“Liv…” His voice broke, raw. “You feel—”
Words failed him.
He groaned, the sound coming from somewhere primal. He pushed deeper, slow enough that my body had time to take him. When he sank fully inside, we both stilled, breath tangled in the space between us.
“Tell me if hurts,” he whispered.
“I’ll tell you,” I murmured. “Move.”
With a nod, he drew back just enough to make me gasp, then pushed in again with a long, steady stroke. Each movement found the places inside me that had woken hungry for him.
I lifted my hips to meet him. “Just like that,” I breathed. “Don’t stop.”
His mouth found mine again and his hand cupped my breast, thumb circling the peak until soft sounds spilled from me without thought.
Pleasure built fast, impossible to hold back.
“Vek…” My voice wavered. “I’m close.”
Curling down, his forehead pressed to mine. “Good.”
The next thrust sent the world peeling open. Pleasure swept through me in a deep wave. My back arched, fingers tightening in his fur.
He shuddered, his voice catching. “Liv—”
Thrusting a few more times, his breath broke, then heat spilled deep inside me as his body shook above mine. He held himself up, still protecting me even when everything in him burst apart.
When the tremors faded, he settled onto his side and hauled me with him like I weighed nothing. His arm wrapped around my waist, his hand warm at my back, his chest a solid wall of heat that made my eyelids droop all over again.
“We should get up,” I whispered—mostly for my own conscience.
“Mmm,” he hummed into my hair, which was not an answer but also absolutely an answer.
I knew I should’ve been worrying about breakfast, or laundry, or the fact that the universe still expected me to function like a normal adult. Instead, all I could feel was the warmth of him against me and the steady pull of his breathing.
So I let my eyes close. Let the morning wait. Let myself sink back into him.
Because somehow, in the span of one impossible night, I’d ended up curled against a man the world would call a monster… and all I felt was safe. And already in far more trouble than I’d planned for.
I woke again to Boone’s low rumble drifting through the room. It wasn’t loud, but it carried a note he didn’t use unless someone pulled into the driveway. I blinked against the soft light and pushed up onto an elbow, the quilt sliding from my waist.
Beside me, Vek stirred. His brow knit as he lifted his head, already alert in a way that made my pulse jump.
An unmistakable knock followed, but not the aggressive one from the night before.
“Liv?” Gunner called from the porch. “You home?”
My stomach dropped straight through the mattress.
“Oh, hell,” I whispered, scrambling upright. The ache from earlier flared again, sharp enough to steal my breath. I grabbed the quilt and pulled it against me, my mind racing faster than my hands could keep up.
Vek sat up fully now, eyes shifting between me and the door. “Liv?” he murmured, uncertainty filling his gaze.
“It’s my brother,” I said under my breath. “Just… stay in here. Please.”
He didn’t understand all of it, the risk of him being seen, but he understood enough. His jaw remained tense, but he sank back onto the bed, watchful but waiting.
Another knock, harder this time.
“Liv! I know you’re home!”
“Coming!” I called, trying to make it sound normal even though nothing about this moment felt remotely normal.
Reaching for my robe, I cinched it tight, and ran a hand through my hair, hoping it made a difference. June Bug and Boone swarmed my ankles, which didn’t help my composure one bit.
I gave Vek one last look. “Stay.”
He nodded, a quiet assurance in his eyes that told me he would stay where I needed him. Or at least, I hoped he would.
Blowing out a breath, I shut the door behind me and headed down the hall with a heart that felt one beat away from launching itself out of my chest.
I opened the front door and tried for something close to casual. “Morning,” I said, though my voice barely cooperated. Both dogs darted past, breaking the tension for a moment.
Gunner stood on the porch holding two cups of coffee, looking entirely too awake for the hour. His jeans were damp from wet grass, and the wind had worked his hair into a mess he hadn't bothered to fix.
“Finally,” he said, handing me one of the cups. “I was just about to grab my key.”
“Sorry, I stayed up too late,” I replied, taking a sip of the coffee. It was true enough. Just not in the way he’d imagine.
Something in the way he studied my face made me want to pull the robe tighter around me. He’d always been too good at reading between lines, picking up on things before I said them out loud. The curse of being so close.
“You look… flushed,” he said, squinting at me.
“It’s warm inside,” I blurted, immediately regretting my choice of words.
Gunner lifted an eyebrow. Not accusing—just curious in the worst possible way. He knew something was up, and I was a terrible liar.
“Anyway,” he said, shaking his head a little, “I came by because I wanted to talk to you face-to-face.”
My stomach tightened. “About what?”
“T-Bone,” he said, voice dropping, as if the name itself carried trouble.