Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions novel Chapter 19

Chapter 19

1 finish bringing order back to her kitchen, clean the skillet, pack the prepared ingredients into containers, place them in the fridge for later use, and then make my way to the living room.

The sight that awaits me has me stopping dead in my tracks.

Her face is relaxed in sleep, her breathing is even, and her posture is calm. In other words, utterly beautiful.

It doesn’t surprise me that her body needed rest. Since last night, when she rescued me, it’s been a whirlwind of emotions and unexpected events. Even though I don’t need sleep, I have no qualms about having my mortal mate rest sufficiently so she can be happy, healthy, and strong.

She’s going to need it if she’s going to put up with my surly ass every day.

I could walk over to the recliner on the other side of the room I probably should but why would I do that when I can sit beside her and be near her and her intoxicating smell?

Slowly, carefully, I lower myself onto the seat about a foot from where her legs are crossed underneath her. Far enough away to not seem creepy should she wake, but near enough that I can touch her surreptitiously as she sleeps. In a non–creepy way, of course.

When she doesn’t stir or wake when I’m seated and comfortable, I sit and watch her. I watch her eyelids and eyelashes twitch as she’s having an obvious dream. I watch as her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. I watch her hands lift from her lap, dropping the towel–covered frozen peas, and move so they’re tucked under her head against the backrest in an almost child–like, fetal position.

Taking

me completely by surprise, her legs shift and stretch out, coming to rest over my lap, with her ankles hanging off the side of my left thigh I freeze for half a second, afraid she might wake and think I moved her into this position for my own personal gain. When her breathing settles again and she lets out a contented sigh, I also relax.

Carefully, I pick the frozen parcel up from her lap and place it on the coffee table in front of us. Then, unable to keep my hands off her, my left hand settles on the bridge of her foot, and my right hand cups one of her knees.

Technically, I could move her. I could lift her legs slowly and slip from beneath her to keep watch from the recliner across the room. I should move her. But she’s warm. She’s soft. She’s vulnerable and fragile. And I think I’d kill someone if she left her spot right now.

The only move I do make is to carefully pull the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over her lower half. I rest my hands atop the blanket as I watch her, keeping as still as possible so as not to disturb her in her slumber.

After several more minutes of taking in her features, I turn my attention to some of the emails and messages from Griffin that await me on my phone. I also order take–out to be delivered within an hour or so, seeing as our lunch was burnt, partially due to me.

As if sensing the food’s arrival, my Little Menace starts waking a few minutes before her doorbell rings. Gently, I lift her legs from my lap, making sure the blanket is still tucked around her, and then go to answer the door.

Returning to the living room, I see she’s sitting up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, still a bit sleep–confused.

Her jaw drops when she notices the copious containers of take–out food I unload on the coffee table before her.

“What? is the peace core showing up to join us?” she asks sarcastically, making me roll my eyes at her.

“I didn’t know what you’d like,” I say flatly as 1 pack out Chinese, sushi, Alfredo pasta, pizza, fried chicken, and cheeseburgers with fries.

*So you decided to spend way too much money on food that we likely won’t be able to finish for the next two weeks?” she asks, leaning forward and grabbing a salmon rose and popping it into her mouth. Her hum of satisfaction makes my spine stiffen, and I look away from her, needing a minute to collect myself before I devour her like she’s started doing to the food in front of her.

Sitting in the recliner, I watch as she tastes everything, savoring every hite as if it might be her last, entrancing me even more. Gods, how has chewing become a turn–on for me?

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asks as she’s picking up the Chinese noodles with the chopsticks that came with it.

“No,” is the only answer I can give her. I’m having trouble taking my eyes off her mouth as it opens for her to get the warm, juicy noodles inside. I can think of something else warm and juicy to feed her. Futes, that was corny. What has become of me?

“What, are you on some weird diet? Paleo? Intermittent fasting?” she continues, undeterred and unaware of what she’s doing to me and my libido by the simple act of eating.

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