Page 22 of Claiming Ours
For several seconds, I stared up at his handsome face, memorizing every small scar until the moment was shattered by my stomach growling like a bear coming out of hibernation.
“And bacon,” he said after planting a soft kiss on the top of my head. “You deserve crispy bacon to help with that hangover I’m sure you’re feeling. Though you’re young enough that it won’t last multiple days like it does for me now.” Spinning me around, he guided me back around the island and easily lifted me to set me down on the stool I vacated earlier. “I wanted to make eggs, too, but there weren’t any in the fridge. Hell, there isn’t much of anything in there other than condiments, cookie dough, and some moldy fruit. When was the last time you went grocery shopping?”
I watched his movements like a hawk as he slid the perfectly cooked bacon from the sizzling pan onto a paper towel–covered plate. “Last week, the week before, maybe. I’m shocked I even had bacon, honestly.” I pointed at the empty package on the counter with a wince. “Did you double-check the expiration date?”
The plate clinked against the concrete countertop, and a folded paper towel was placed beside it. Grabbing a piece, I broke it in half before shoving the fried goodness into my mouth, almost crying at how perfectly crispy it was.
Perfection. Absolute perfection.
Halfway through inhaling a third piece, its magic working instantly on my headache and upset stomach, I realized he hadn’t said anything. Peering up through my lashes, I caught him watching with a satisfied smile on his face.
“Now you enjoy watching me sleepandeat?” I tsked, pointing a piece of bacon at him. “I’m sticking with my creepy comment from earlier.”
His barked laugh had a smile growing as I chewed.
“Yes, I checked the expiration date. You know I wouldn’t serve you something that could hurt you.”
Pinching a piece between two fingers, he held it up to my lips and arched a brow in silent command for me to take a bite. Our eyes locked. I pitched forward on the stool to seal my lips around the food, barely grazing his skin. His heated stare followed me as I leaned back, tracking the movement as I chewed and swallowed.
Maybe I was still a little drunk, or his all-consuming, desire-filled stare just had that dazed effect on me. Before his hand dropped, I wrapped my fingers around his wrist and guided the grease-coated digits close, sealing my lips around the tips.
“Holy fuck,” he rasped, lids hooded.
He dared a step closer, only for the moment to shatter at a sharp squeak, followed by the distinct scratch of tiny claws on the hardwood floor. Sighing at the poor timing of my little friend, I sat back on the stool and turned to watch the slinky white ball of fur dashing around the living room.
“BamBam,” I called out as the ermine I rescued as a baby skidded to a stop near my feet. “The reason I had bacon.” Iscooped him off the floor with one hand and placed him on my lap, where he immediately lifted onto his back feet, sticking his nose toward the last piece.
Before I could snag the meat for the hungry little guy, Liam snatched it off the plate with a disapproving expression aimed at BamBam.
“Don’t worry, I saved him a few raw slices.” He tilted the piece of bacon in my direction in silent question. At my headshake, he pushed it between his lips, chewing as he moved toward the fridge. When he turned back around, shutting the metal door with his hip, he held BamBam’s dish piled full of raw bacon. The ermine practically vibrated with excitement.
Acting more like a relative to a flying squirrel than a weasel, BamBam leapt off my lap, diving toward the meal waiting for him in the dish Liam set on the floor. A small smile curled the corners of my lips as I watched him attack his food, remembering when I found him as a baby, injured and abandoned in the snow. It was by luck that I caught his slight movement that morning when pausing to stretch along my normal running trail. After I nursed him back to health and mothered the shit out of the little guy, he refused to leave.
Which I was totally okay with. It was nice having something to look after that was somewhat my own. I wasn’t to the point of delusion in my grief that I thought I could truly own and tame a wild animal like BamBam, but I rejoiced every day when he came back to me—even if deep down, I knew it was just for the easy food supply. What animal wouldn’t want their food delivered to them in a porcelain dish instead of hunting for hours in the cold?
The sound of the water running pulled my attention to where Liam stood in front of the sink, washing the dishes and utensils he used. Shaking my head, smile wide, I hopped off the stool and padded across the cold floor.
“I’ll do that,” I admonished, snuggling up against his side. “You cooked, I clean. That’s how it works, right?”
His returning sweet grin made my heart hammer painfully in my chest and my stomach do this weird flutter thing that seemed to happen a lot around him. This massive man who towered over me and could snap me in half with hardly any effort, a literal badass from his fighting days and military training, was the sweetest, most considerate man I’d ever met.
Even more than Dean.
That disparaging thought about my late fiancé had the awe of my sweet giant evaporating, leaving me hollow like it always did. But something was different this morning. As I watched his massive hands gently wash the fragile plate decorated with blue flowers and vibrant birds, the sadness and guilt lifted almost as quickly as it appeared.
I was different. Stronger, maybe, was the right feeling. There must have been healing magic in those drinks, or maybe it was the hours of talking through my jumbled feelings out loud with friends, but this morning Iwanted.
Wanted him and not the sorrow that had clung to me like a second skin.
Wanted hope and not regret.
Yesterday tipped me over that edge from surviving to truly moving on.
Gazing up at his handsome face, I couldn’t resist tracing a finger along his scruff-covered jaw. Those gray eyes cut my way, scanning my face. For what, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was the overwhelming desire and need to show this man how much I appreciated him, wanted him, was too much to ignore.
Like I had done for weeks now. Why? I could blame it on the heartache that still weighed heavy on my soul, but that wasn’t all of it.
Fear.
