“Huh,” I chuckle, inhaling the spicy aroma of it. He doesn’t sit next to me, instead he heads for the pantry to grab the loaf of bread.
“You have bread with your curry?” I ask.
He dips his chin with a nod and slices a few pieces before he grabs the butter and joins me.
I take the first bite and my brows shoot up, “Wow, it’s good.”
“You sound surprised,” He huffs, grabbing some bread before he starts to tear off the crusts and then my mouth drops open when he places it next to my plate.
“Why did you do that?” I blink rapidly.
He glances to the bread and then me, and then back at his plate, “You don’t eat the crust.”
“How do you know that?”
It’s a thing I’ve done since I was a kid, my friends and family used to make fun of me for it, but I never did like the crust.
“I noticed,” He shrugs, taking a big bite of his food before he reaches for the bread again, butters a slice and starts mopping up some of the sauce at the edge of the plate. But I’m still in shock. No one has taken the crust off for me before.
I’m stunned silent, following his lead by buttering the bread and mopping up the sauce and carefully take a bite. I have nothing to say, so I eat in silence, Malakai doing the same.
When we’re finished, he clears the plates and grabs two bottles of water from the fridge.
“Let’s go.” He waits for me.
“Go where?”
“To bed.” He frowns.
“I am so confused right now,” I follow him up the stairs and head for the bed once inside while he goes to the closet, dropping the water onto the bench outside. He returns in a pair of flannel pajama pants, topless and the dim light from the lamps kisses each peak of his muscles, shadowing the hollows.
I could stare at him all day, run my fingers over those muscles and trace each severe line of them. I shake my head, the fuck is wrong with me?
“Drink your water,” He passes me a bottle and then climbs in next to me.
“Are you tired too?” I ask, downing half the bottle before I put it on the bedside table.
“No.” He pulls the sheets over us.
“Why are you in bed then?”
“Because I want to hold you,” While his voice is stern and strong, his eyes are not. There’s a hint of vulnerability there, an edge of something uncertain flicking in his expression. “Is that a problem?”
Seeing him like this, that steely hardness to him pushed down to show this softer side, I don’t have the heart to say no. So, I shuffle closer to him and when he lifts his arms, I tuck myself against his side, hand falling to his abdomen. For a few minutes we lay there silently, as if getting used to the feel of it, the feel of each other.
I won’t lie and pretend it doesn’t feel nice. He holds me tightly, his fingers absently tracing up and down my spine while his chest moves evenly beneath my cheek. His heartbeat is strong under my ear, the thump of it somewhat soothing to my exhausted mind.
My own fingers begin to move, following those lines I was tempted by earlier, my nails lightly scraping against his tan skin.
His muscles jump under my touch, but I don’t stop, even when my eyes grow heavy and start to sting. I’m ready to give into it, let the exhaustion I’ve fought all day finally take its hold.
I’m at the edge of sleep, the fog seeping in quicklyand thickly when I hear his voice.
“You may not care about me, kitten,” His chest rumbles, “But I’m certainly finding I care an awful lot about you, certainly more than I ever expected I would.”
Chapter Thirty-five
A groan slips past my lips as pleasure whips down my spine. Something warm and wet is moving over my cock, stroking it eagerly.
