Total pages in book: 182
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Giggling to myself, I set his food down and retraced my steps back to my room, finding tools that would work in no time. I closed my panel, finding such a keyhole on the backside and marveling that you couldn’t see it from the front. At his door, I made short work of the lock and pushed my way inside, stopping to grab the food and closing the door behind me.
In any other situation, I would’ve been worried this was a trick; a woman had to be wary of randomly being lured into someone else’s bedchamber. I knew, though, without a doubt, that this was Weston. No one else would know I’d find those clues, as subtle as they were, as perfectly placed.
In his huge bedroom, his bed had been turned down and the curtains drawn. Soft indigo light, now reminding me of Calia’s eyes, glowed from atop a trunk at the far side of the bed. He’d retrieved my lantern. He must’ve had her turn it on for him.
Shadows from candles in the candelabra flickered throughout the space. I thought back to our conversation the previous day and warmed at the thought he’d paid attention to what I said. I took several steps toward the front room and spotted Weston. He was sitting in his well-worn chair, dressed in loose, comfortable pants and a plain, snug shirt, feet propped up on an ottoman. A soft light glowed from behind him, illuminating the book in his hands.
He glanced up when he saw me, eyes creasing at the corners with the beginnings of a smile.
“Hey, baby,” he said affectionately, no note of surprise that I’d come. He noticed the items in my hands. “What’ve you got there?”
I released my breath into a smile and walked forward. “A lukewarm dinner with an odd use of spices that has probably been sitting too long. A few of the pack members from our journey stopped by. Hadriel was upset that he only got to eat just a few bites rather than the full dinner he thought he’d stolen. The others gave him a lot of shit for it, too.”
Weston smiled and put down his book. “I heard the commotion as I passed by. I figured you were having a good time.”
“Why didn’t you stop in?” On impulse, I walked directly to him and waited for him to set his feet on the floor. I sat on his lap and pulled the cloche off the serving tray to show him the meal. “Crap, I forgot a fork.”
“It’s okay.” He leaned back and settled one of his hands on my lower back. “Fingers are fine.” He dropped the other hand to my knee. “I didn’t want to ruin the fun.”
I hesitated. “Are you not hungry?”
“On the contrary. I am very hungry.” He waited expectantly.
My stomach fluttered with the desire to feed him. It felt more intimate than a kiss, somehow. More poignant than verbalizing my growing feelings. More sensual than eating usually would. I wanted to take care of him, to nurture him maybe, as he had done for me. Creating a home had been his way. Making him dinner, and now feeding him, was mine.
I hesitantly plucked a potato from the plate, never having done this before. As when he’d washed me that time in the port city, I was strangely nervous, unsure what to do. I put it to my lips for a moment to test the temperature before reaching it out. His eyes bored into mine. He wrapped his lips around it, grazing my fingers in the process, before chewing.
“Mmm,” he said, his thumb stroking my knee. “Delicious.”
“You people have no taste buds,” I murmured, grabbing a carrot this time.
He smiled. “Maybe we aren’t as fussy as you are.”
“You should be. Good food is one of life’s great pleasures.”
“So it seems.”
“Here.” I grabbed his hand and shoved the plate into it as heat dripped down into my core. “You need to be the table so I can use both hands for the meat.”
His eyes were so intense. He did as I said, eating whatever I gave him, even closing his eyes at one point to savor the taste. After trying the bland chicken from the kitchen earlier, I understood why people would think even incorrectly used spices were a treat. He finished every bite and pulled me closer for a kiss when he was done.
“That was delicious, baby. Thank you. Do you need help cleaning your place up?”
“No, that’s all done. Listen . . . I know you give the pack room so that they can relax, but maybe . . . Can you hang out more and show them that when you’re not on duty, you’re a little more chill?”
He took the plate from my hands and set it on the side table. He pulled me closer, tucking me against his body. I curled my legs into his lap.