I bit my lip, shaking my head. “Now I know I didn’t.”
“How do you know?” The corner of his lip kicked up, and his eyes were playful.
“I think you know how I know,” I murmured, my eyes searching his.
His gaze grew serious, and he nodded, lowering his head to press his lips to mine. His tongue stroked along the seam of my lips, seeking entrance, and I willingly gave it to him.
The butterflies took flight, swooping in my belly as the kiss consumed me. Alaric’s cock jumped beside my thigh, and he grinned against my mouth.
Hot breath fanned the side of my face, and I turned my head. Tig stood beside the bed, tall enough to hold his muzzle above the mattress. He whimpered, tilting his head questioningly.
I laughed, gently pushing on Alaric’s chest. He rolled off with a soft chuckle, his cock still rigid. “I guess we’ve been in bed long enough,” he sighed, stretching.
“We could always come back to it,” I reminded him, wrapping the sheet around me as I stood, peering around for my clothes. I stilled when Alaric pressed against me from behind, my body going lax against his.
“I’ll hold you to it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my earlobe. “I think your dress is in the front hall.” He reached around me, retrieving a pair of sleep pants from his dresser. He pulled them over his hips and opened another drawer, grabbing a t-shirt. In two steps, he was back in front of me, holding the shirt out to me.
I dropped my arms, letting the sheet fall to the ground. His eyes thirstily roamed my body. He bit his bottom lip and exhaled deeply when I took the shirt from him and tugged it over my head.
Freeing my hair of the collar, I glanced at him, biting back a smile. “So, what now?”
“Are you hungry?” Alaric asked, and Tig barked loudly twice, wagging his tail. “I make a mean omelette.” He cocked a brow.
“I’m a little hungry,” I said modestly, just before my stomach audibly growled. Alaric grinned and touched the small of my back. He guided me forward, and we left his room, Tig leading the way down the stairs. “I’ll meet you down there.” I branched off toward the bathroom.
Closing the door, I rested against it, drawing in a sustaining breath.
17
Famished
Alaric
Opening the back door, I let Tig out for his morning pee before heading into the kitchen. I grabbed a frying pan, set it on the stovetop, then reached for the refrigerator. Pulling out the eggs, and milk, I deposited them on the counter before going back for the cheese, spinach, and green onions.
While the skillet warmed, I chopped up the green onions, spinach, and cheese, cracking the eggs off the side of the pan and dropping them in one by one before sprinkling in the rest.
I hadn’t made breakfast for a woman since Cheryl, but by that point, she was already three months pregnant with Sawyer.
Everythingabout this situation with Gwen was different. Having her in my space should have felt constricting, it should have made me uneasy, but instead, I felt balanced, like for the first time in a while, everything was right.
For the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to see a future different than the one of just existing until my next weekend with Sawyer.
Gwen descended the stairs, heading straight for the mudroom to open the door. Tig cantered in, and a moment later, he bee-lined it for the kitchen, his tail wagging hopefully, carrying his food bowl in his mouth while Gwen’s laughter followed him.
“I think he’s a little hungry,” she remarked, walking into the kitchen. “I can feed him if you want.”
I carefully flipped the omelet. “His food is in the tote under the counter in there,” I told her, lifting my chin to the mudroom and watching while she disappeared. Tig, the smartest dog I’d ever met, followed her with his bowl, his tail wagging happily. I heard the cupboards opening, and the sound of kibble pouring into Tig’s tin dish.
“Uh, Alaric? He’s not eating.”
“You have to give him permission,” I replied over my shoulder.
“Seriously? All right. Uh, Tig—I formally invite you to eat. So, eat.” Half a second later, the extremely audible sounds of Tig inhaling his breakfast reached my ears. I glanced up, following Gwen’s movements as she joined me in the kitchen again. “Can I help with anything?”
“Just stand there and look pretty,” I joked, the corner of my lip curling up in a smirk as my gaze raked across her body. She smiled, her dimples deepening, and leaned against the island.
“You think I’m pretty?” she teased, batting her lashes at me.
