Page 82 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy
After, we lay tangled in the blankets, my head on his chest, his fingers tracing circles on my back.
“Are you still breathing?” I asked.
“Barely. You’re dangerous, mate.”
“You’re not harmless yourself.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Thank you.”
I lifted my gaze to meet his. “For what?”
“For letting me love you.”
Tears stung my eyes. I kissed his chest and tucked myself against him.
Chapter 30
Sel
It would be odd if things weren’t different between us the next day. Some parts of our life remained the same. We were making breakfast together while Max sat at the table, reading. After, we’d get Zist to carry us to the bakery.
It felt normal. Wonderful. Like family.
Awareness pulsed between us. We weren’t necessarily behaving differently with each other, it was better. And I couldn’t ask for anything more.
We mixed pancake batter because it was amazing. Our hands touched as she passed me one ingredient or another, and the memory of being with her shot through me. She smiled, and I could tell she was thinking the same thing by the light in her eyes.
We were happy.
The scent of vanilla and butter soon filled the kitchen. Holly stood barefoot by the stove, her hair still sleep-mussed, stirring batter in the bowl. I sliced strawberries and set them into a bowl to macerate, watching the way the morning light played across her face.
“You didn’t measure the sugar,” she said, peering into my bowl.
I shrugged. “I don’t need to. Orc instincts told me how much to use.”
“Orc instincts better know how to balance acid and sweetness.”
I gave her a mock-serious look. “Surely you trust me.”
She snorted. “Like I was supposed to trust your attempt at omelets last week?”
So I’d added some odd ingredients that turned the green chumble eggs pink. The omelets had still tasted good, and she’d agreed.
Before I could speak, someone knocked on the back kitchen door.
Hail opened the panel and poked his head in.
I wiped my hands on a towel. “Come on in.”
My brother widened the door and stepped through the threshold, dressed in his usual chaps, vest with no shirt, boots with spurs because he adored the way they clinked, and a dusty, orc-sized cowboy hat. He’d pulled his hair back in a short tail. He grunted once in greeting and closed the door behind him.
“Morning, Hail,” Holly said brightly. “Are you hungry?”
Another grunt.
I gestured toward the table. “Sit. You’re eating pancakes with us, then.”
Hail shucked his boots and hung his hat on the peg by the door. He moved toward the chair next to Max, whose glasses kept slipping down his nose as he put his book aside and grinned up at my brother.
