Page 16 of My Knight

I pushed myself up slowly, and every muscle groaned in protest. I sat on the edge of the bed and planted my feet on the floor. I wiggled my toes against the cool wood. With a sigh, I ran my fingers through my tangled hair and tried to make sense of everything that had led me here.

To Pirate’s bed.

What the hell had the last two days even been?

Before I could spiral too far into my own thoughts, the bathroom door creaked open. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the soft golden light spilling into the room. And there he was.

Pirate.

Backlit by the bathroom light, with water still glistening on his chest and a towel slung low on his hips. His hair dripped onto his shoulders as he rubbed a towel over his head.

Oh. My. God.

My brain short-circuited. Muscles, tattoos, that stupidly smug expression—it was like someone had conjured the perfect image of temptation and dropped it right in front of me.

“You’re up,” he said. His voice was rough and low, with a slow drawl that made my already-fuzzy thoughts even worse. He kept drying his hair with the towel and was completely unbothered by the way my jaw might’ve been unhinged.

I blinked and shook my head to try to force my eyes up to his face instead of… everywhere else. “Uh, yeah. I guess I’ve finally slept enough.”

He chuckled and stepped farther into the room, switching on the lamp on the dresser. The softer light was easier on my eyes, but it didn’t make him any less distracting.

“Adalee and Fallon brought dinner a little bit ago,” he said, and nodded toward the dresser. A tray sat there, loaded with two big bowls of something delicious-looking and a half loaf of crusty bread. “Hopefully it’s still warm. Hungry?”

As if on cue, my stomach growled loud enough for both of us to hear. I gave a sheepish smile. “Uh, I could eat.”

“I’ll bring it to you.” He grabbed the tray with one hand and set it gently on the bed next to me.

The steam rising from the bowls smelled amazing—rich, savory, and comforting in a way that made my chest ache just a little. “This looks amazing,” I said and reached for one of the bowls.

Pirate handed it to me without hesitation, and his fingers brushed mine for a second. I got a whiff of him—clean, fresh,warm. Like soap and steam and something undeniably male. It was a scent that would ruin me if I wasn’t careful.

He tore off a chunk of bread and placed it carefully on the edge of the tray. “You good here? I can bring in a table if you want it.”

I shook my head and tried not to inhale his scent too deeply again. “I’m good right here. Is the movie over?”

He laughed as he walked back toward the bathroom. “Yeah, baby. We both passed out not even ten minutes in.”

I smiled as I dipped a piece of bread into the soup, and the broth soaked into the crust. I heard him moving around in the bathroom.

A few moments later, he walked back out. Jeans slung low on his hips, a plain white T-shirt clinging to his damp chest, and his feet bare. Casual and devastating.

He grabbed his bowl and dropped onto the couch. “Is it good?” he asked.

“I haven’t taken a bite yet. What time is it?” I asked.

“Almost seven.”

I scooped up a spoonful of soup and brought it to my lips. The warmth, the flavor—it was like a hug from the inside. “Oh, wow. That is amazing.”

He nodded. “Everything Adalee makes turns out amazing.”

“I can see why she’s opening a bakery.” I ripped off another hunk of bread and dunked it in. “I’m assuming she made the bread, too.”

“Yup. She’s always got something baking in the oven, it seems.”

We ate in comfortable silence with just the soft clink of silverware and the occasional slurp of soup breaking the stillness.

Pirate glanced over. “How are you feeling?”

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