Page 47 of Jesse
The bond between us, between me and Beck, was real. Unmistakable. Bone-deep and soul-tied. I felt it in every beat of my heart and every brush of his skin against mine.
My wolf could wait. For now. He was quiet, content to bask in the closeness of our mate without baring teeth or making demands.
But he didn’t possess endless patience, and neither did I. I closed my eyes and let the rhythm of Beck’s breathing lull me.
“You’re warm,” Beck murmured, his voice trailing off into a soft yawn.
“Good,” I said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Means you’ll sleep better.”
He hummed and nuzzled in closer, his fingers tightening slightly around my waist.
Chapter 12
Beck
The room wasquiet except for the soft rhythm of Jesse’s breathing. His arm was draped across my waist, anchoring me in place.
Even half-asleep, he held on tight enough that I had to shift carefully to turn over and face him.
Jesse was still out cold, his dark lashes brushing softly against his cheeks. A subtle flush clung to his skin, stirring vivid memories of last night, the weight of his body against mine, the firm grip of his hands on my hips, and the deep, rough groans in my ear that sent a shiver down my spine.
My cheeks burned, but I couldn’t look away. Tentatively, I brushed his hair back, my fingers grazing the soft strands before trailing down to the sharp line of his jaw.
I traced the faint shadow of stubble, then let my thumb linger on the spot where his dimple usually appeared when he smiled.
He didn’t stir, so my hand ventured lower, sliding to the nape of his neck. His skin was warm beneath my fingertips, and for a moment, I wondered what it would take to wake him.
Another round wouldn’t be the worst idea.
Jesse stayed sound asleep. I let my hand drop and leaned in, resting my head against his chest.
His heartbeat was solid and even, a steady rhythm that eased my nerves. My wolf stirred quietly, calm and at peace.
A loud growl from my stomach broke the quiet. I froze, glancing at Jesse, but he still didn’t move. I shook my head, amused. "Out cold," I muttered before carefully slipping out of his hold.
Once free, I headed to the kitchen, stretching as I went.
A quick look in the cabinets confirmed my low expectations: a loaf of bread, some jam, and a nearly empty jar of peanut butter.
I held up the jar, inspecting it. It was barely enough left for a sandwich, definitely not enough for a thick smear, which was how I liked mine.
I looked at the counter and could almost see Jesse. After a long shift, jacket off and tie loose, he’d be making a quick PB&J in the low kitchen light. He’d probably just lean on the counter and eat it straight from his hands, no plate needed.
I knew that routine well. I’d done the same when I started out, sometimes grabbing a bowl of cold cereal instead. Whatever was easiest.
Deciding not to settle for the sad remains of Jesse’s pantry, I figured I’d go out and get something better.
Sleeping Beauty was still out cold, so I quickly washed up, started a pot of coffee, and left a note before heading out.
The truck rumbled to life, and I hesitated briefly, debating whether to call Jackson or Noah for breakfast recommendations.
Both would have opinions, but that also meant dealing with their questions. I decided against it, sighed, and pulled out onto Main Street.
The town was just waking up, sidewalks filling with people. The smell of coffee and baked goods in the air as I drove slowly, checking out the storefronts.
A small café with a modest line caught my eye, so I parked and joined the queue. Longer queues usually meant better, or at least more popular, food.
While waiting, a faint prickling sensation crawled up the back of my neck, like I was being watched.
