Page 72 of Sweet Heat

“If you hate it, we’ll change it. If you don’t like the house, we’ll sell it. It’s just stuff; all I care about is your happiness.” His complete adoration fills my chest, bursting inside me like the light of a thousand suns.

“I love it,” I promise, squeezing with all my might. His hands roam down my back, landing on my ass and gripping it firmly. “And I love you.”

Miller’s lips claim mine in a passionate kiss, a purr starting in his chest. “Fuck you’re an addiction, Posie Moore,” he groans, breaking our lip-lock. “And if I don’t feed you, my Alpha is going to riot.”

Giggling in response, I touch my swollen lips, stepping back. The towel under my arms slips, revealing the swells of my breasts before I snatch up the damn thing. Miller growls in appreciation, making me giddy.

“And on that note, I’m going to grab you a robe before I decide to devour you instead. The kitchen is that way and to the right.” He points, patting my bottom before sprinting in the opposite direction. “I’ll meet you there.”

Pushing amusement down the bond, I hear his bark of laughter and do as he says. Padding lightly on the shiny floors, I follow my nose. The scent of coffee reaches me, and I stumble, surprise nearly bowling me over.

What the hell is happening?

Sucking in deep breaths, I search my brain, trying to pinpoint if I’ve been able to smell anything besides Miller since my heat ended…

Not sure.

But there’s no mistaking the strong coffee emanating from the other end of the hallway, and as I get closer, other scents assault me. Chocolate, possibly bacon—is that fresh bread? My mouth waters, and my stomach churns excitedly as my taste buds awaken, anticipating food that actually tastesgoodinstead of a ghostly reminder of what it used to be.

Turning the corner, I blink several times while my brain tries to catch up to the view before me. The kitchen is absolutely gorgeous. White cabinets with marble countertops, an enormous island, double ovens, and high-end appliances gleam in the sunlight. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook a big white patio; the view beyond makes my mouth drop. Trees thick enough to be considered a forest fill the horizon, swaying gently in the breeze. It looks so peaceful and serene. Off to one side, a giant pool gleams. And is that a backyard batting cage?

“Here, Puff,” Miller says, dropping a soft robe over my shoulders, chuckling when he notices the shock on my face. “Want to eat out there?”

Shaking my head, I focus on the food, finally taking a peek at all the yummy offerings before me. There’s an enormous mixed berry bowl, croissants, bagels, and muffins piled high, a plate of juicy bacon, and what seems to be a cereal bar. Yes, please. All my favorite breakfast foods converge on one table. I don’t even know where to start.

“My housekeeper left us a feast. Want me to make you some eggs or French toast?” Miller asks, moving to grab plates from the cupboard. All the food smells are overwhelming after so long, and although he’s talking, my body is playingcatch up—leaving me staring mutely, frozen with indecision. He must see the mixed emotions on my face because, in the space of a second, he dumps the plates on the counter with a clatter and leaps forward to catch me as my knees buckle.

“Woah, Posie, talk to me. What’s going on?” There’s fear in his eyes, but his hands are as gentle as ever, lifting me to sit on the counter. I want to tell him, but my tongue isn’t working. All I can do is swallow reflexively, unsure if I’m going to throw up or die of embarrassment. Tucking my head into his shoulder, I breathe in his familiar warm scent, taking deep, gasping breaths and blocking out everything else until his nearness calms my overwhelmed senses.

“I- I can smell it. The food,” I finally whisper, more emotional than I would have expected. I thought regaining my ability to smell would bring only happiness, but the reality of finding such a significant part of myself after so long is almost incomprehensible. My mind struggles to grasp the magnitude. The absence of smell, my anosmia, has been both a loss and a liberation. It’s spared me sensory overload from Alpha pheromones, ensuring my autonomy.

“Wait… what? You can? All the scents?” he asks, tucking my hair behind my ears.

“I think so. Definitely the coffee and bacon… and you.” I spread my legs, letting him settle between them, eager to feel him closer. In such a short time, he’s become my rock, the person I anchor my world to when everything is adrift. His eyes narrow, scrutinizing my face for a moment before he bends forward and presses his forehead to mine.

“Okay, sweet girl, let’s take this slowly,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

With a shudder, I do as he says, instantly feeling better. The dulling of one sense allows me to calm down and focus on my rediscovered skill. Miller’s warm palm on my knee grounds me, and I listen to his breathing, forcing my heart rate into a steadier rhythm.

“We’re going to take this one step at a time. Tell me if it’s too much, my love,” he purrs, rubbing a thumb over the bond mark on my throat. I blow out a deep breath, trusting him completely. No one makes me as comfortable.

This man is my home.

“Okay, smell this first.” He waves something under my nose, and for a few moments, the scent is foreign. I just can’t place it…

“Oh, strawberry! Right?” I yell, my eyes popping open. Miller’s beaming at me, his expression so filled with love that my heart squeezes. He brings the ripe berry to my lips, and I take a bite. The juice burst on my tongue, the flavor so bright and tangy that it shocks me. It’s been years since anything besides churros tasted this good and tears jump to my eyes.

“Good?” he asks, feeding me another. Our bond lights up, and I can sense his joy at my increasing excitement.

Is this really happening?

Being cut off from my senses for so long forced me to just accept living in a world where nothing tastes good, and everything is muted. In regaining my olfactory senses, everything is suddenly sharper, happier, and more in focus.

“Want to try another?” Miller asks, and I hum, eagerly shutting my eyes to figure out if I can identify the next food on scentalone. He brings something to my nose, and this one takes a bit longer. Flaring my nostrils, I try to take it all in—the nuttiness, something sugary, maybe…

“Oh! Banana nut muffin!” I squeal, opening my eyes. Miller holds the giant pastry, grinning from ear to ear. He pinches off a piece and offers it to me with a satisfied chuckle. Just like the strawberry, its flavor is otherworldly, so delicious that it makes me want to weep.

We continue our exploration, Miller feeding me little bits of everything like it’s a fun game instead of a life-changing moment. We find that my tastebuds have changed since the accident, and some foods that I used to love, like blueberries, no longer hold the appeal they once did. But that’s okay, learning the new me is both fun and special, and I wish we could stay hidden away from the world like this forever.

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