“Were you and yourloloclose?” Murphy asked softly, leaning down and brushing his lips over her forehead.
Nessa sniffled and nodded. “My parents died when I was little; I was too young to really remember them. Angelo is older by a few years, and he took it as hard as you could expect. Mylolowas our only family in America, and he adopted us. He fed us, loved us, kept us safe.Lolowasn’t just my grandfather. He was my dad,” she whispered tightly, her voice heavy with her sorrow. “He taught me how to cook his favorite dishes. He really loved adobo, and he’d always tease me for putting too much sugar into the sauce.‘It’s too sweet, just like you, my Nes.’”
Murphy didn’t know he could feel so happy to learn more about his mate and yet so devastated at the same time. She’d lost so much in her life, endured too much strife and turmoil …
Despite that, she was such a strong female, so resilient when life had thrown its worst at her. She’d survived immense loss, an abusive relationship, a shifter attack, and still come out on top. She might not have his strength physically, but she was a fighter. A warrior where it mattered.
Murphy was in awe of her.
“No one’s called me Nes sinceLolopassed. Not until you,” she added, rubbing her cheek against his sweater. His heart stuttered in his chest, and he kissed her forehead again, wishing he could do more. He’d kiss away each tear if she’d let him.
“I can stop calling you that if it’s a painful reminder,” he offered, though it gutted him to suggest it.
“No!” she cut in sharply. She sucked in a ragged breath before pulling her head back from his chest. She looked up at him, her lashes spiky and her cheeks damp from her tears. “It’s not painful—not how you think. It makes me sad that he’s gone, but so happy that I can think of him. I love it when you call me Nes, Murphy.”
“Okay.” Murphy lifted his hands to her cheeks, wiping away her tears. His eyes roamed over her face. Even after crying, shewas beautiful. Her lips were a deeper shade of coral, the tip of her upturned nose a dull shade of red that he longed to kiss.
His eyes locked with hers and she stilled, her pupils dilating as he felt her heart skip a beat. He leaned toward her, almost in a daze, her lips only a few scant inches from his.
“I … The food!” she exclaimed, breaking away from him suddenly.
She turned back to the stove, snatching the pan from it before it could start burning. She turned the stove off, sighing dramatically. “I can’t believe you’ve distracted me twice now!” She sent him an irate glare, though the laughter, and the slight confusion, in her eyes were impossible to miss. “Next time, I’m banning you from the kitchen.”
“That hardly seems fair,” Murphy argued, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The heavy mood evaporated, their conversation returning to the easy banter he enjoyed. Deciding to tease her, he shrugged. “I can’t help it if you find me too sexy to focus.”
Nessa’s mouth popped open in shock, and her grip slipped on the handle she was holding. The pan fell, the bottom connecting to the stovetop with a loud clatter. Sauce exploded from the top, droplets of brown sauce splattering everything nearby, including her shirt.
“Oh!” Nessa exclaimed, looking down at the mess in bewilderment. She let out a relieved breath. “Well, at least the chicken is fine. And there is still plenty of sauce.” She reached for a dishtowel on the counter, but he stopped her.
“I’ll clean it up after we eat,” Murphy assured her, moving to the cabinet on her right. He pulled two dinner plates free before moving to the silverware drawer.
“What? No, I’m the one who made the mess.”
He sent her a cocky grin, inwardly preening that he’d had such an effect on her. “You only made a mess because I pointed out that you find me sexy.”
Her cheeks heated. “Fair point,” she mumbled.
“I’ll grab you a shirt to change into if you want to fix our plates?” he offered. Nessa nodded, and he handed her the items in his hands before making his way toward his bedroom.
It was short work to pull another sweater off the hanger in his closet and return to her. He set the garment onto the counter, taking the loaded plates from her and heading toward the dining room table. “You can change in the kitchen. I won’t look,” he tossed over his shoulder.
No matter how much he wanted to.
He set the plates down on the table, glad he’d thought ahead and had their drinks already set on the placemats. Less than a minute later, Nessa walked into the dining room, and his breath stilled in his lungs, his bear lifting his head and growling in satisfaction.
Lust slammed into him like a battering ram, his cock going instantly erect. His balls ached, heat spreading through his belly as he focused on his mate.
His shirt was massive on Nessa’s slight frame, the hem ending halfway down her thighs. She’d rolled the sleeves up to her elbows, her tan skin standing out beautifully against the light blue fabric. She still wore her jeans, but there was something about seeing her in his clothes that called to the most basic, primitive part of him.
In a way, he’d marked her. She was draped in his belongings, covered in his scent.
His.
Nessa shot him a quick, hesitant look. “Is everything okay? You’re growling.”
“What?” he asked, a husky note to his voice. Then he heard it, his chest rumbling as his bear crooned for her again in a low, satisfied rumble.
Full of need.
