Page 92 of Forsaken Oath

I laugh even as my heart skips a beat. “Not for a second.”

He holds up the box of donuts. “Thought you might be hungry after last night.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks at the memory of our night spent in the little cabin motel outside of Arbor Heights. The way his hands and mouth worshipped every inch of my body over and over again.

I step back, opening the door wider. “Come on in.”

Beau steps inside, his presence immediately filling the small entryway. He leans down and brushes a soft kiss against my lips, the simple touch sending a shiver down my spine. “Morning, Peach,” he murmurs, his voice rough.

I smile into the kiss, my hand coming up to rest on his chest. “How did you know where I live?”

He chuckles, kicking the door shut behind him with his boot. “I have my ways.”

I arch a brow, a playful smirk tugging at my lips. “Stalking me now, are you?”

Beau laughs, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Is it stalking if you like it?”

“You could’ve just asked me, you know, instead of resorting to your mysterious ways,” I tease.

“Ah, but then I wouldn’t be able to surprise you with these.” He wiggles the box, the donuts shifting around inside.

“You’re not playing fair,” I murmur, reaching for the sugary lifeline. I was going to settle for cereal for breakfast, but a donut sounds infinitely better.

“When it comes to you? Never.” He throws his arm over my shoulders and curls me into his chest.

I start thinking of it as his thing, the way he throws his arm around my shoulders like he’s been doing it for years. Like he belongs there.

LikeIbelong there. Tucked under his arm so perfectly.

“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. My sisters should be up any minute, and Vivie’s a little bear when she’s hungry.”

Beau follows me down the hallway and into the kitchen, his arm still slung casually over my shoulders. His gaze sweeps the room, taking in the space with a quiet sort of appreciation.

The house is small, but it’s ours. The kitchen walls are painted a soft sage green, the counters a mix of original laminate and carefully chosen butcher block we installed ourselves. There’s a warmth to it—a lived-in charm—but suddenly, I can’t help noticing every imperfection.

The kitchen opens up into the living room, creating an open-concept space that makes the house feel larger than it is. Warm morning light streams in through the window over the sink, illuminating the room with a soft glow. The vintage fridge hums quietly in the corner, covered in an eclectic mix of magnets, photos, and Vivie’s drawings.

“I wondered what your house looked like,” Beau says, his voice genuine as his fingers lightly trace a pattern along my shoulder. “Feels like home.”

Heat crawls up my neck, part pride and part mortification. “Thanks. We did our best,” I say, trying to keep the wobble out of my voice. “Margot’s not one for a lot of home renovation projects.”

He glances down at me, his brows furrowing like I just said something absurd. “It’s perfect, Peach.”

The words are simple, but they send a warmth rushing through me. Still, my stomach twists when his gaze lands on themodular couch in the living room visible through the archway. The pillows are arranged neatly, the quilt draped just so, but there’s no hiding the fact that someone sleeps there.

The tension in my stomach bubbles, self-consciousness wrapping itself around me like a too-tight sweater.

“Coffee?” I ask, even though I’m already starting a fresh pot. I force myself to focus on brewing more coffee.

“Always.” He leans against the counter, watching me like he’s perfectly content to just exist in my space.

“How do you want it?” I push onto my tiptoes and reach for the mugs in the cabinet next to the sink.

His arm comes up behind me, his fingers brushing mine as he reaches for the chipped Mickey Mouse mug I found at a garage sale a few years ago. It reminded me of the one I had when I was younger, so I picked it up for five dollars.

“I’ll take it any way you wanna give it to me,” he murmurs in my ear.

My breath hitches at his words, desire stirring low in my belly despite the exhaustion from our long night. I turn my head, meeting his heated gaze. “Careful,” I murmur. “My sisters will be up any second.”

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