Page 33 of Made For Ruin

She beams up at me, her blue eyes shining with emotion.

Fuck, she’s breathtaking when she smiles like that. I want to be the reason for that smile every damn day.

The smell of eggs starting to burn reaches my nose, and I curse under my breath, reluctantly pulling away to save our breakfast. Fortunately, the omelets are only slightly crispy around the edges.

“Come and eat, baby,” I tell Lainey, plating up the food.

She hops down from the counter and follows me to the small kitchen table. I pull out a chair for her, but when she goes to sit, I tug her into my lap instead. Lainey lets out a surprised little squeak but settles against me, fitting perfectly in the circle of my arms.

I cut into the omelet with my fork and bring a bite to her lips.

Her brows lift in surprise.“You’re not seriously going to feed me?”

“Try and stop me.” I brush the bite against her lower lip and her eyes darken. “Open.”

Lainey parts her lips, letting me place the bite of fluffy egg on her tongue. I watch her chew and swallow, oddly satisfied by the simple act of providing for her.

“Good?” I ask as I spear another forkful.

She hums in agreement, shifting in my lap in a way that makes my grip on her hip tighten. “The food’s not bad either.”

I love this playful side of her and how easily she’s adapted to my need to take care of her.

“I wish every morning could start like this,” she sighs contentedly, resting her head on my shoulder.

I feed her another bite, my other hand stroking idly up and down her side.

“It will.”

Lainey tilts her head to look at me, confusion in her blue eyes. “How?”

“Because you’re going to be living here with me.”

“What?” Her eyes widen and she nearly chokes on the mouthful of omelet. “Marcus, I can’t just move in with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because we barely know each other!”

“We went over this last night,” I growl. “You’re mine, now. And I take care of what’s mine.”

Lainey scrambles off my lap to pace the kitchen.

“This is crazy. I have the diner to run. I can’t just abandon it to shack up with you!”

A low growl rumbles in my chest at her wording, and I stand, crowding her against the counter.

“You’re not ‘shacking up’ with me. You’re going to be living with me because this is where you belong. With me.”

I wrap one hand around the nape of her neck, my thumb stroking over her racing pulse.

“I know it’s fast, baby. I know it’s a lot. But tell me this doesn’t feel right.”

“It does feel right,” she whispers. “It scares me how right it feels.”

“Then trust it. Trust me.” I lean in, brushing my nose against hers. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you or the diner. I protect what’s mine, remember?”

She exhales shakily, and her small hands come up to rest on my chest.

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