Page 64 of Frayed Owner

She gave me a look like she knew it was a line but then studied me. “Really?”

Oh shit, she really was so damn cute. I nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Much prettier.”

Her gaze changed and the look was sexy now. “Any part of me in particular?”

I moved my elbows to the table and made a show of licking my spoon. “All the ones I’ve seen. I’m very open to seeing more though and making sure those parts are pretty too.”

There was heat in her eyes, but then it dimmed. “That sounds interesting, but I can’t right now.”

I instantly knew what she meant. “Doesn’t bother me.” I nodded when she opened her mouth to explain. “I know what you’re talking about, Bev. I know how calendars work. Doesn’t bother me.”

The shock in her eyes almost hurt my heart. This bullshit with women having to be embarrassed with something completely normal, completelynaturalwas just that—bullshit. We were magical beings who were supposed to be in tune with nature—harvestedmagic from nature.

And we treated women like they were disgusting during their menstruation? We were the disgusting ones.

Especially the ones who wanted them for breeding and then acted like their periods were vile and to be hidden.

I winked at her. “Everything good in life is a bit messy. So whatever your comfort level is, I’m good with it.”

She looked a bit worried. “It’s not like a kink or—”

I threw back my head and laughed. Gods, I so needed this woman in my life. “Nope, no kink. I promise.” I nodded. “I won’t go down on you, but there’s lots we can still do, and even when we’re having sex—you just put a towel down, Bev. It’s not a big deal unless you’re sore or too tender there.”

“I never thought that would be an option,” she muttered quietly.

“It’s not for everyone. Some guys I know aren’t comfortable with it.” I let her see how serious I was in my eyes. “But if any guy treats you badly or like you’re a problem because you’re menstruating, they’re not the guy for you. It’s just a damn period and they need to grow up. If they don’t want to be intimate during it, that’s their choice, but you’re not gross nor a baby.”

“Thanks, Sir Winter,” she whispered, clearly having had someone in her family treat her that way. “I’m not sure where my comfort is.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to decide, and things can just happen naturally.” I shrugged. As I focused back on my food. “I will say it’s not everyone that I would be comfortable with it either. And when I was younger, I was terrified I would do the wrong thing and hurt someone, so—it’s all about maturing and knowledge.”

She seemed to accept that and went to eat, but I wanted to go back to her being cute.

“So seriously, when did you get so pretty?”

She laughed. She laughed hard and it echoed in the cafeteria.

Perfect.

“When did you become so handsome?” she threw right back when she calmed back down.

I pretended to seriously consider it. “I think right when I came out of my mom and a nurse slapped my butt. The moment I learned women would spank me and life would be fun, I became handsome.”

Her eyes flashed uncertainty. That was fair since my mom died right after my birth, so most wouldn’t think to joke about that situation, and of course she’d be leery to laugh.

I gave her a wink that it was okay, hoping to convey that I was long since settled with being an orphan and what had happened. “Or maybe it was when I got my first real muscle?” I held up my arm and flexed so she saw some… And liked them. “I don’t think the lanky kid I was could be—”

“Do you have pictures?” she asked with a squee. “I want to see little Winter! I bet you were an adorable baby! So cute.”

My mouth almost fell open, but I nodded. “Yeah, I mean not a lot because of my circumstances, but there was one really nice lady at the orphanage who made sure each kid had an album and kept them all safe.”

“Oh wow, that’s—what a gem of a woman in such a jaded setting,” she whispered. “Do you keep in touch with her? I bet she used her own money for that. We should make sure she can keep getting the supplies she needs to do it. I’ve talked with—we’ve talked about donating toys to kids in those circumstances, but they’d get stolen. The treats could be different.”

She quietly rambled for the next few minutes about how it could be organized and set up so no one stole the valuable treats for familiars from the kids and even maybe working with the orphanages for comfort blankets. But mostly she wanted to make sure that woman had the supplies to keep making albums for each kid so they had something like I did.

That was the moment I knew for sure I was in love with Bevin Millen.

I’d never dated or been with someone who made me feel so seen and never embarrassed about my history. She didn’t pity me even if she wished I’d had better. She didn’t linger or try to unpack me.

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