Setting the toaster pastry box down on a nearby table, he opened it, taking one out for her. “I don’t have a toaster unfortunately.” He ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck before they both took a seat at the table.
“That’s fine...you're not going to have one?”
He shook his head, just continuing to watch her eat. This felt extremely intimate. Watching and providing food was something mates did. She knew he knew that. Was he falling for her, for real? Were the feelings she had similar to his? Suddenly feeling an intense amount of pressure, she cleared her throat before looking up at him.
“Okay, I’m going to get your room ready.” Getting upaftershe’d finished her toaster pastry, she noticed. Fighting her uneven breathing, and warmed cheeks, Flora went to sit on the couch, trying to calm down.
“He likes me?” she mumbled to herself, wringing her fingers out. “Like for real? No jokes?” Deciding to stop talking to herself where he could hear her, she distracted herself with the light of the fire. She’d dissect this mess of feelings later. For now, she needed to get mentally ready for her trip to the production factory in Moonlight at the end of the week.
15
FLORA
“Igot you sleeping on the couch in your own place?” Flora said, walking down the hall to see the man who so graciously had been taking care of her sleeping on his living room couch. She hadn’t noticed there wasn’t another room and she had slept in his bed, all comfortable and relaxed. Surrounded by the almost faded smell of him and having the best sleep of her life, he had tried and failed to fit his tall, lanky frame on his little couch.
“There was another bed, but I wanted to watch the front door just in case,” Dylan mumbled, pulling his blanket over his head. His knees folded over the armrest, much smaller than the one at Flora’s apartment. The blanket bunched at his thighs exposed his legs. To say he looked uncomfortable was an understatement. Guilt flared within her, her footsteps bringing her closer to the too-generous man laying on a couch two sizes too small for him. Kneeling on the floor, Flora's eyes roamed his body.
“Dylan, you didn’t have to do that.”
“No, I didn’t. I wanted to.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Moving the blanket from his face, she wanted to give him a good morning kiss, crawl on the couch with him, and just be with him. But she wasn’t sure she was ready — wasn’t sure that he was ready. Instead, she ran her hands through his hair, the brown waves moving with her fingers. Dragging her hands through the strands of his soft waves, she massaged his scalp. Relaxing, he closed his eyes, gently pushing his head into her hands. After a minute, she guessed he'd had enough trying to get closer to her because he picked her up and placed her on top of him. She straddled him, leaning forward to place her hands back into his hair.
She wasn’t sure what this meant, how she was supposed to feel. Now she was flustered and confused. Memories of her grinding against him at the club filled her thoughts, warming her body up in more ways than just embarrassment. He kept his eyes closed and his hands on her hips, close to her ass. She was on his stomach now but was completely aware of what ventured lower. She tried not to think, but his little grunts and moans were making her skin feel sticky with a building sweat.
When it came to Dylan, she was almost sure he was her mate. Her growing love for him stretched from the depths of her to the cells of her skin. Her body screamed that he was her one and only every moment they spent together. She had doubts though; if Dylan was her destinated mate and he rejected her she’d be vulnerable to rejection: a Shifter’s natural shutdown after being rejected from their soulmate. Flora heard rejection from a mate made them feel like their heart was aching with a pain so deep no healing abilities could repair. Most didn’t want to survive or live with the pain. Death was easily welcomed after the first couple days of pain, and a Shifter would kill themselves before their heart could give out. At least, that’s what Flora heard. It didn’t happen often, so no one she knew seemed to know for sure what happened. Flora struggled daily on whether to pursue Dylan or not. She was sure she was giving him whiplash. There was a flame between them, but she didn’t know when it would die, and that scared her most. Even after he left her life, her flame for him would still be lit and that heartbreak wasn’t something she was ready for.
She pulled her hands away, sitting up, as Dylan opened his eyes. “Okay, I gotta call the girls, update them and then we have to leave soon,” she said, hating the despair of leaving that house in that moment. If it wasn’t for the fact she needed food, she’d stay until Dylan kicked her out. She dragged her body off his, his hands slipping from her hips to rest on his stomach. His longing look must have matched hers. Going back to the bedroom, she picked up the phone, group calling Luxe and Willow.
Luxe answered, her face appearing on the screen first, a mere second before Willow's. It felt great, reconnecting with them. It hadn’t been long since they last talked, but the girls were like family. Sure, they weren’t officially Pack, but they might as well have been.
“Okay, so Flora are you ready to tell us where you're at?” Luxe asked, pulling her phone closer to her face, as if to get a better look. Sitting on the bed, Flora looked around the cozy cream-and-brown room.
“I’m not sure I can actually tell you,” she said, suddenly unsure of what she could and couldn't say. Dylan was letting her stay at his hideaway and the last thing she wanted to do was ruin his secret.
“Can you tell us who you’re with?” Willow tried, her auburn curls bouncing with her stride. She was in the office, doing what—Flora couldn’t remember. It was a good thing Flora wasn’t the personal assistant; she’d do a terrible job.
“I’m staying with Dylan, something happened the other day, and I couldn’t stay at my place. It's —,” Flora explained, trying to find the right words, “Not safe anymore.” That brought on a chorus of ‘what happened’ and ‘are you okay’. Flora started from the beginning, explaining everything. From the rocks being thrown at her window, to her practically dry humping Dylan in a club. She’d never live that down, by the sound of their laughs. A weight lifted from her shoulders; venting about it helped. She felt she could really begin to understand what the hell was going on.
“Aren’t you glad I introduced you to Dylan?” Luxe laughed, trying to bring light to the situation. Flora shied away with a roll of her eyes.
“More serious than I thought,” Flora admitted, waiting for the ‘I told you so’s to continue.
“I should start a matchmaking business,” Luxe went on, with Willow's encouragement. “I mean, look how well Flora and Dylan turned out.”
“We’re not together.”
“Is that what you want?” Willow asked.
“It would be nice.” She played it off, cheesing too hard and blushing that much harder.
“So, what’s the problem?” Luxe asked, working away behind the discount rack at Clothes Before Bros.
“It’s not just a fling, or temporary boyfriend-girlfriend status. It's serious for me.”
“What about him?” Willow asked, continuing their interrogation.
