Page 72 of Virgin Skin

Chapter 24

MILO

I should be sleepingin since I’m not scheduled to work this morning, but I jolt awake at the crack of dawn, worrying about Cy and the babies. We stopped at the pet store on the way home last night to get the essentials: food, litter, scratching post, and of course, dozens of toys shaped like birds and mice. But what if Cy was too scared in a new place to eat or drink? What if the kittens got cold during the night and need to be snuggled? What if—

“They’re fine,” Piston says in a sleep-rough voice, throwing an arm around me and tugging me closer before I can get out of bed.

“Not all cats are good moms,” I point out.

“Not all humans are either.” He nuzzles my neck, and I melt into him a little more. The bedisnice and warm, and itisvery, very early. “But I’ve been up every few hours all night making sure she’s keeping them warm like she needs to. I watched her eat and drink a few hours ago and then go right back to the kittens.”

I smile and wiggle in his grip so I can roll over to face him. His eyes are only half-open and he has bags under them, confirming his story about the lack of sleep he got. I smooth my thumb along one of his swollen under eyes and brush a kiss against his lips.

He got up to check on the kittens and let me sleep. Is there a more precious man in the entire world? If I weren’t already head over heels for him, this would be the moment. But there have already been a million smaller moments, thoughtful little things that added up one by one. The way he’s just accepted all of my little quirks from day one, the way he pours my coffee every single morning, even when he’s already in the middle of drinking his own cup, the way he’s always worrying about me getting cold… I’ve never had anyone think about me as much as he does. It makes me feel so… important.

It’s not just what he does formeeither. He’s just such agoodperson, through and through. Everything he does is for everyone else. In a twisted way, I love that I’m his exception, his guilty pleasure, the one thing he’s wanted selfishly in his whole life.

I love him.

As soon as the words enter my mind, I can’t shake them.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

I feel like a crate of dynamite with a lit fuse. I feel like a hive of bees buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. I want to blurt it out, tell him that he’s it for me, but I swallow it down. He won’t be able to let himself be fully happy with our relationship until we tell my dad. I don’t want the first time I tell him I love him to be tainted by his guilt.

“You’re not going to stay in bed, are you?”

Stay in bed? Is he insane? I’m made of firecrackers. My blood is jet fuel. I’m in love and I can’t just lie here, I need to scream and dance and tell the whole damn world.

Fuck, it’s hard not to say it.

I laugh and kiss his nose.

“I need coffee.”

He sighs, but there’s no bite to it, no frustration, just resignation and a little bit of affection.

“You check Cy and the babies, and I’ll make coffee,” he says.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I pepper a few more enthusiastic kisses over his face and then leap out of bed. It’s chilly in the house, so I pause long enough to yank open his top dresser drawer and help myself to a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

His rumbling laughter behind me warms me up from the inside.

I love him.

I take my time checking on the cats. Cy is still extremely suspicious of me, in spite of the bond we clearly formed last night, but at least she tolerates me picking up each of the kittens for a few seconds. When the second kitten—I really do need to come up with names for them—lets out a high-pitched, squeaky meow, Cy immediately grabs it by the scruff and tugs it out of my hand with a glare in my direction.

“Okay, sorry. I just need to make sure they’re happy and healthy.”

I really should call the vet to make an appointment before I forget. I top off Cy’s food bowl then go in search of my phone. The smell of coffee wafting through the house makes my mouth water, and I smile a few minutes later when the delicious scent of bacon joins it. Meanwhile, I shuffle around the house looking for my phone, checking all the logical places, like the pockets of the pants I wore last night and my jacket, plus the not-as-logicalplaces like the laundry room and the bathroom. Finally, I go into the kitchen.

“Have you seen my phone?” I start opening cabinets in search of it.

Piston reaches into his pocket and pulls it out, holding it out for me. “It was in the refrigerator.”

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