Page 52 of Knot my Alphas

A sigh escapes me as I reluctantly loosen my hold.

She hurries off toward the fridge and starts rummaging inside it.

A minute later, she emerges with a few big bowls and some wrapped packages. Moving toward the counter, she plates up my food and puts the whole thing inside the microwave.

“What’s that?” I ask curiously, gesturing at the small package in white wrapping paper.

“Dessert,” she says with a grin.

The room soon fills with a warm, spicy aroma that has my stomach growling. Fuck! I’m starving.

Iris stands at the counter, grinning like she knew exactly how hungry I was.

The microwave starts beeping and it’s a relief to see her pulling out the dish.

I’m ready with my fork and knife by the time she comes over to the table.

A generous portion of lasagna sits on the plate before me. I inhale the heavenly smell and stare down at the perfectly browned cheese on top of it.

Steam wafts out as I cut into the lasagna.

“Be careful! It’s hot,” Iris warns as I put the food in my mouth.

A moan escapes me. “It’s so good though,” I say through a mouthful of hot lasagna. The meat sauce combines perfectly with the silky layers of pasta, making every bite a heavenly experience.

I practicallyinhalethe lasagna.

“Would you like another slice?” she asks, watching me with a happy grin.

“Make it three,” I say, taking a large gulp of wine.

“Be right back!” She skips back to the counter with my plate and starts loading it up with more lasagna.

I sip my wine and impatiently wait for the food to heat up.

“Here, you go,” says Iris, coming back to the table with a plate of steaming lasagna slices. “There’s more if you want.”

“Thanks,” I say gratefully and dig in.

She sits on a chair near me and simply watches me. Her presence is warm and calming, relieving me of the stress I’ve been carrying on my shoulders the whole day.

I can’t help but think of the life she’s had to endure with the Collins. They must’ve worked her hard since she was a child. There’s no other way a young woman like her could bethisgood at house chores.

“What do you have for dessert?” I ask as she refills my wine glass.

“Let me show you,” she says and stands up from the chair. Going over to the counter, she picks up the mysterious parcel and brings it over to the table.

I take a sip of my wine as I watch her open the package and reveal something that looks like a thick pancake.

“Pancake sandwiches,” she says with a chuckle. “I made loads of them at breakfast and later, smeared them with cream cheese and jelly. They’re delicious when eaten cold like this.”

She places one of the “sandwiches” on my plate and gestures at it. “Tell me what you think.”

I cut a piece and put it in my mouth. “Mmm,” I moan, relishing the portion of pancake that’s been layered with cream cheese and blueberry jelly. “It’s almost like eating an actual cake.”

“I know, right? You can have them for breakfast too.”

“Have you been cooking all day?”

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