“He’s still a problem,” Nate states, taking a deep breath.
I nod, and his expression darkens.
“I’m going to find him.”
And with Nate’s promise, he closes the distance and wraps his arms around me. He squeezes me tight as he whispers his promise over and over.
What a turn this day has taken.
Chapter 38
Wren
Gentlekissespeppermyneck, and I groan into my pillow.
The sun is still sleeping. I should be too.
Stretching, I arch my back, and my ass grazes something hard. Jett groans from behind me, his solid and warm arm slung over my waist.
For a few moments, I don’t move. I let the silence of the early hours greet me as Jett’s hands run up and down my bare legs.
Waking up beside him isn’t new. It’s something we’ve done before. In pieces and fragments and stolen nights, he’d sneak out of his house and slip inside my window. But this version feels different. For the past few weeks, Jett has practically moved in with me. We only separate during the day, when we both have to work, but he always makes sure I’m never alone. Whenever he gets done on the farm, he comes straight here for a shower and dinner on the table. Storm has made herself at home in the corner of the living room, claiming a throw blanket as hers.
It feels right having them here.
Domesticated and natural.
It feels like forever.
“It’s too early,” he murmurs, lips brushing my skin.
I smile into the darkness. “It’s your alarm.”
“Too early for your brain to be thinking.”
“I was thinking about how you used to sneak into my room, and now there’s no more sneaking around.”
I feel his lips curve against my skin. “I used to have to flip you around so you could moan into your pillow.”
“My dad would’ve killed you if he found you in my bed.”
He presses his nose into my hair, inhaling deeply as he tugs me closer. It’s possessive, and in the past, it would’ve bothered me, but now… Now, I feel safe. Admired. Loved without strings attached.
Moments tick by as the silence stretches. Our legs tangle as his thumb traces idle circles against my hip. There’s no urgency to start the day. As much as I’d love to stay right here, we need to get up.
Wiggling out of his touch, his deep groan fills the air. My feet hit the cool floor, making a shiver rack through my body. I slip on a silk robe before padding toward the door to beat him to the bathroom. I’m still not comfortable with my morning breath.
A few minutes later, I’m standing at the coffeepot when Jett emerges from the bathroom, clad in Wranglers. Shirtless. Barefoot. His hair is still sleep-mussed as I lean against the counter, watching him. My eyes widen as I watch him stride to the fridge. I’ve seen him fully dressed and naked, but there’s something about seeing him without a shirt and barefoot in my kitchen.
He moves like he belongs here, opening drawers without asking where things are, pulling bacon from the fridge, fiddling with the fresh eggs from Grams’s chickens resting on the counter.
“You’re staring,” he says without looking.
“Can you blame me?” I shoot back.
He cocks his head over his shoulder, lips curved. I slide his coffee toward him as I fumble around making my shitty version of a matcha. I need Julia to show me how to make them her way.
With my drink in hand, I prop myself on the counter to watch this god move around my kitchen. He cooks like he does everything—confidently and quietly attentive. Bacon sizzles in the pan, eggs cooking in another, potatoes crisping in the air fryer, and the fresh fruit I cut sitting in a bowl.
