A little while later, I’m standing in his kitchen wearing his shirt, barefoot on warm hardwood floors, watching him move around like this is normal. Like I belong here. Like I’ve always belonged here.
It’s disorienting to say the least. Shepherd hands me a mug without looking, like he just knows where I am. “Careful,” he says. “It’s hot.”
I take it from him, my fingers brushing his, my body still reacting with a spark all the way down to my toes. “You do this every morning?” I ask, leaning against the counter.
“What? Coffee?” He smirks and shakes his head. “Never like that, no.”
“No.” I smile. “The…calm, domestic, lumberjack thing.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Lumberjack?”
I shrug. “Yeah. You give off strong ‘builds furniture and chops wood for fun’ energy.”
He nods with an appreciative smile. “I do build furniture.”
“So you’ve said.”
“You say that like it’s a problem.”
“It’s not a problem at all,” I say quickly. “It’s just…I don’t know. Annoyingly attractive.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, his mouth curving into that slow, lazy smile that does dangerous things to my insides. “Annoyingly attractive, huh? I’ll take that.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop my own smile. “Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.” He leans against the counter opposite me, both hands wrapped around his mug. The morning light catches the angles of his face, turning him into something almost too perfect to be real. “You know what I find annoyingly attractive?”
My heart stutters a little. “What?”
“The way you look right now wearing my clothes.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks and I hide behind my coffee mug, taking a sip that’s too large and too hot. I wince as it burns my tongue.
“I told you it was hot,” he says, his voice tinged with concern.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, setting the mug down. “And I don’t…I don’t look like anything special.”
Shepherd’s expression shifts, something serious replacing his playful demeanor. He sets his mug on the counter and closes the distance between us, not touching me but standing close enough that I can smell the coffee on his breath and feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
“Sutton Price,” he says, my name sounding like something sacred in his mouth. “You standing in my kitchen in my shirt with messy hair and sleepy eyes is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly tight. The sincerity in his voice leaves no room for doubt, but my brain struggles to accept it. “You’ve probably said thatto?—”
“No,” he cuts me off, his voice gentle but firm. “I haven’t because you’re the first and only.”
Only?
“You don’t…you haven’t?—”
“Never.”
“Wait,” I say, my brows furrowing. “Are you…I mean, were you, before last night…a virgin?”
He laughs but not in a way that has me feel like he’s making fun of me. “No, Sutton. I’m not a virgin.” He shrugs, sipping his coffee. “I just don’t bring women here. To my house.”
My brows furrowed, I shake my head slowly. “But…the condoms. In the nightstand.”
He shrugs. “Isn’t that where they’re kept? In a nightstand?”
