“Where’s Kade?” I asked. My voice was small, but it cut through the bathroom.
Dane didn’t flinch, but his eyes darkened as they met mine in the glass.
“Downstairs. Keeping watch.” He didn’t elaborate, but the set of his jaw brought the man from the party back to the forefront of my mind.
“This looks good on you,” Dane muttered, his large hand coming up to cup the back of my neck. He leaned down, pressing a final, lingering kiss to my forehead. “Now, let’s go see about some food.”
Dane grabbed my hand, and I followed him out of the room, the oversized shirt fluttering against my bare legs.
Foodgasm
The day had started long before we got out of bed. The house was different downstairs. In the bedroom, the air was thick with sex and us. But as my feet hit the cold floor of the hallway, the scale of Dane’s world sank in. I’d seen it before, but now, the high ceilings and shadows stood guard. It wasn’t a house; it was a fortress.
When we entered the kitchen, the familiar black marble and floor-to-ceiling windows still took my breath away. He walked me straight to the island, gripped my waist, and hoisted me onto the cold marble counter.
“Stay,” he commanded.
He moved with military precision that should have been clinical, but on him, it was graceful. He pulled a bowl of seasoned meat from the fridge and reached for a knife. Nothing held my attention like Dane’s chiseled, tattooed back. He returned to my side and my breath hitched as he worked—peeling and chopping potatoes into perfect cubes with a speed I could never match.
“How do smash burgers and potato bites sound?” Dane asked.
“Dinner for breakfast—like a foodgasm,” I groaned as his knife flew.
“I love it when you make that sound,” he sighed. My cheeks flushed as a smile spread across my face. He smirked as herolled the meat in the palm of his hand and squished it, placing one patty after another onto parchment paper. When the sheet was covered, he spread a thin layer of mustard onto each one. I wrinkled my nose, and he laughed.
“Not a fan?”
“Definitely not,” I said.
“Don’t worry. You won’t even taste it,” he teased. He winked at me before throwing the first burger into the hot skillet. The meat hit the oil with a hiss that drowned out the quiet of the house.
“I didn’t know sergeants made enough to live like this,” I said, nodding at the connecting dining room and waving at the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“We’re having the money talk?” Dane gasped, pretending to be appalled.
“Yes. And from what I know of the militia, you’re supposed to be staying on base. You’re awfully suspicious, sir,” I teased.
“You’re overthinking,” he hummed.
“Am I though?”
He took a deep breath and exhaled. “What are you accusing me of? Because we already cleared up the fact that I’m not mated. You’ve seen my neck and every inch of my body.”
I wasn’t upset that he’d brought that up again, but I realized I’d done nothing but doubt him since he brought me home. Still, the question remained: who exactly was Dane? He rinsed his hands and ground seasoning on top of the meat.
“What about the guards outside?” I distinctly remembered soldiers. A lot of them. Hell, a lot more than I’d seen in my entire life.
He stiffened. I tilted my head, tracking the shift. I was always attuned to people—their attitude, demeanor—a survival skill I’d picked up.
Dane didn’t respond as he lifted the deep fry basket and emptied it into a large bowl. He moved to the sink and rubbed his hands beneath the scalding water. I remembered shoving my hands beneath hot water to keep my mind off things, and didn’t want him to get hurt. I jumped to the floor, rushing to his side to lift the handle until the water grew cooler.
“Don’t burn yourself,” I murmured.
As he dried his hands, the silence picked at my insecurities. I fiddled with my fingers. He shifted, his eyes locked on me. He tipped my chin up so I gazed into storm grays.
“And you’ve seen a lot of soldiers where?” he asked. My eyes widened.
“Oh, sure. That’s what gets your attention?” I scoffed.
