Page 27 of Can't Help Growling in Love
“Scrambled and well-done.” I take the two pieces of toast out and pop in another two. “Thanks for making all of this.”
Asher slides the cooked breakfast sausage patties—two for me, four for him—onto the prepared plates and cracks the eggs straight into the greasy pan. He scrambles them quickly with a spatula, seasons them, and lets them cook on low heat while he pulls a bag of baby carrots from the crisper drawer of his fridge.
“Want some of these?” He takes a fistful of carrots from the bag and adds them to his plate, then offers the bag to me. “My doctor says I should be eating more vegetables.”
I fish out a couple of the baby carrots. “Sure. Do you mostly eat protein? What’s werewolf metabolism like?”
Asher returns to the eggs and nudges them around the pan, then shuts off the gas. “If it was up to me, I’d survive off steak and bacon, honestly. But I’ve been told repeatedly that I also need fiber for optimum health, so I do what I must.”
His smile tells me he’s mostly joking, but it does make me wonder why he hasn’t changed to his wolf form yet since we’re in the safety of his home. Is he shy about it? I’d like to see all sides of him, but only if he’s comfortable showing me, so I won’t pry.
He serves up the eggs, and I carry the plates to the dining table while he makes the coffee on his fancy espresso machine.
“With milk, right?” he asks, pausing with the small metal jug in his hand.
I nod, stealing greedy glances at the man who seems so relaxed here. He’s put on a fresh t-shirt that molds well to his shoulders, and his ass looks fantastic in sweatpants. He catches me staring and grins, though his expression is still slightly awed, as if he half expected me to disappear while he was making breakfast.
I want to tell him I’m not going anywhere, but I don’t want him to think I’m setting myself up in his house. There’s a fine line between interested and obsessed, something I wasn’t awareof until now. But I’ve never felt an attraction this powerful, not for any of my previous boyfriends. I don’t know if I can play it cool with Asher, and that scares me. He says he’s interested, but if he’s never had a girlfriend—or even a lover—he might just be in lust.
“I’m no good at latte art,” he rumbles as he sets our mugs down between our plates, “but I put some cocoa on top. I hope you like it.”
My heart melts at this. I don’t think a guy who’s just in lust would sprinkle cocoa on my latte to make it pretty. It’s a weird distinction, but Asher is trying to make a good impression, and not only by tempting me with his muscles.
“Thank you,” I rasp, my throat suddenly tight with emotion. “This looks great.”
He eats quickly and methodically, and I find myself watching him as I fuel up on the delicious food he has prepared for me. The eggs are soft and fluffy, the sausage browned on the outside but not dry. Even the carrots are nice, still crunchy and sweet.
“Everything okay with the food?”
“Of course,” I tell him honestly. “It’s just…are we moving too fast? People usually date for a while before they progress to breakfast at home.”
Asher sets down his knife and fork. “Do you want to slow down?”
“Not really?” I hate that the words come out as a question, so I clench my hands in my lap and try again. “There’s no dating rulebook, but I like this. It doesn’t feel too fast, but maybe I’m feeling like this because I’ve done it before, and you haven’t. I don’t want you to think I expect?—”
“June.” Asher reaches forward and takes my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine. “I want to feed you.Thismakes me happy.” He motions at the table with his free hand. “Seeingyou in my clothes makes me happy. Smelling myself on you…” He shakes his head, his expression almost pained.
“Okay.” I breathe out a sigh of relief. “I, um, used your shower gel.”
I don’t know why I feel like sharing that, but Asher’s eyes glint golden at the information.
“Come here.”
He tugs my hand, and I stand, sidling closer to him. Asher draws me in and angles his body so I can stand between his legs. I put my hands on his shoulders. He palms the backs of my thighs, his grip firm and warm even through the layer of his sweatpants.
He’s so handsome. I bring one palm to his cheek and trace the sharp line of his jaw, relishing the sensation of his stubble scratching my skin. He nuzzles into my touch, then takes my hand and presses a reverent kiss to the inside of my wrist.
“June…”
He sounds like he’s in pain. Like he needs my touch more than breathing, like he wants nothing more than to hold me right there.
I lean down to kiss him, and he lifts his chin, meeting me halfway. With one tug, he pulls me into his lap, and I perch on his knee. I wrap myself around him and kiss him full on the mouth. His lips part for me, and then he’s taking over, one hand on the back of my head. He moves me so he has better access and touches his tongue to mine, slowly, savoring me.
I’ve never been kissed like this, so thoroughly. Asher explores my mouth, and I open up for him, my eyes shut. My entire body lights up for this man, and I wrap my arms around his neck to get closer, to feelmore.
He slides one warm palm up my hip and under the borrowed t-shirt. He gasps at the first contact of his palm with my skin.
“So fucking soft,” he rasps against my mouth, then bites down lightly on my lower lip, a quick sting of pain to offset the gentleness of his touch. “Can I touch you, June?”
