He nodded. “Yeah.”
I kissed his temple. “Good.”
And I should have been at peace with my body sated and my mate safe at last. But the memory of Ulfrik Haraldsson’s vacant, dead stare kept intruding, his eyes a reminder of the danger that still lurked beyond Hale Valley.
A reminder of the secrets I wasn’t sure I could keep hidden much longer.
Chapter
Eighteen
CALEB
Sunday dissolved into the kind of lazy, golden afternoon I’d only experienced through movies.
Jesse made brunch, whipping up waffle batter while I sat on a barstool and stared at his ass. He kept four pans going at once, frying eggs and bacon in butter until the kitchen smelled so good the scent should have been classified as a controlled substance.
He made orange juice—actuallymadeit with fresh oranges and a fancy juicer that sounded like a jet engine.
“Good to know I’m getting my daily serving of vitamin C,” I murmured, chin in my hand as I watched his forearms flex beneath his long-sleeve shirt. His running pants rode low on his hips, boxer briefs peeking above the waistband and doing nothing for my determination to get through breakfast without an erection.
He smiled and moved to the waffle iron. “You need more calories now that you’ll be shifting on a regular basis. A lot more protein.”
I knew my grin was pure evil. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
He shook his head, smile going rueful. “I walked right into that one.”
I winked at him as I grabbed a banana from the bowl in the center of the island and started peeling it.
The waffle iron beeped, and he lifted the lid. Steam billowed up, sending a cloud of vanilla-and-cinnamon-scented air through the kitchen.
“You’re going to ruin your appetite,” he said, using a spatula to dislodge the waffle.
“I’ll risk it,” I said, taking a deliberate bite of the banana while maintaining eye contact.
He grabbed the pan of sizzling eggs and began scooping them onto two plates. “Your smart ass is asking for trouble,” he said in a low, thoughtful rumble that wrapped around my dick.
I swallowed. “Just practicing for later.” I waggled my eyebrows and finished the rest of the banana in two bites.
He pushed one of the plates in front of me, braced his hands on the island, and just fuckinglookedat me, the expression in his eyes making me suddenly very aware that I wore nothing but a pair of thin sweatpants.
“Clean your plate,” he said, “or we’ll have problems. And Caleb?”
“Yeah?” I rasped, my voice breaking on the end like a pimple-faced middle schooler.
“You won’t come for averylong time. I’ll tie you down and introduce you to that cock cage I told you about. Then I’ll plug you and keep you hard and moaning. Since you love running your mouth so much, I’ll straddle your face and put my cock in there. You’ll keep my dick warm, sweetheart, and I’ll keep you in my cage until I’m convinced you won’t spoil all my hard work in the kitchen.”
Lust detonated inside me like I’d swallowed a bottle rocket. I reached down and adjusted, my throat dry and most of the blood in my body diverted to my dick, which was a goddamntraitor.
“Fuck,” I muttered, the vision Jesse had painted splashed on the inside of my skull like a slutty Jackson Pollock. Grabbing my fork, I stabbed it into the mound of eggs. “I can’t believe you’re weaponizing breakfast.”
His chuckle traveled straight to my cock as he carried his own plate around the island. “It’sbrunch, brat. And you started it.” He sat next to me and bumped my shoulder with his own. “Eat before it gets cold.”
I shoveled eggs into my face, trying to focus on the food instead of the promise in his words. The first bite melted in my mouth, butter and fluffy eggs seasoned with something that might have been chives. Whatever it was, I needed more of it, stat, and I took another oversized bite. “Holy shit, how do you make eggs taste like money?”
Jesse laughed. “That good, huh?”
“My compliments to the goddamn chef.” I pulled the syrup toward me.
