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The door opening drew my attention away from the rows of trees currently heavy with peaches. Storm stepped outside, wearing a gray pair of linen pajama pants hanging on his hips and nothing else. A tray of food was in his right hand as he used his left to close the door.
God, was there anything on earth as beautiful as this man? Even his feet were sexy, and I didn’t like feet. Not until I’d seen Storm’s.
Ruined. I was ruined.
His eyes drifted over me, and a pleased grin touched his face. I was still wearing his T-shirt that he’d left on the floor last night. I hadn’t wanted to change out of it yet.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Did you make me breakfast?” I asked, not sure if any man had ever made me breakfast. I’d had plenty order me room service.
He nodded. “I thought we’d eat out here since you enjoy this view so much.”
I watched him walk over to the table and chairs that sat on the other end of the porch. I knew he meant the peach trees, but the view I really enjoyed was him.
Standing up, I made my way over to the table as he began to set everything out.
“I assumed we’d go to Maeme’s this morning,” I said, surprised at the items he had brought out here. Scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits, fresh berries, and jam. The orange juice looked freshly squeezed.
He moved the glass pitcher of juice off the tray, then glanced back at me. “I wanted you to myself a little longer.”
Stop it, heart. Don’t get silly.
I had to keep my guard up. Prepare for the worst.
Studying the biscuits, I could tell they were homemade. “You can make biscuits?” I asked him as he pulled out a chair for me.
He smirked. “What do you think?”
“No. But those aren’t from a can,” I pointed out, moving over to take the seat as he stood behind it. I paused and tipped my head back to look up at him.
He reached a handout to cup my cheek, then brushed my lips with his thumb. “I might have had my sister bring Maeme’s breakfast to us.”
Ah. That explained it.
Smiling, I opened my mouth and nipped at his thumb with my teeth. His gaze studied my mouth, and I watched it darken, his hazel eyes turning a deeper amber color—it was one of my favorite things to watch.
“You’d better sit down and eat before I put you on that fucking table as my breakfast.”
My breath hitched, as if we hadn’t had sex less than an hour ago in his bed. I had to find a way to balance this with him. I couldn’t become completely addicted.
Forcing myself to look away from him, I turned and sat down. He pushed my chair in, then leaned down close to my ear.
“I’ll eat you after.” His deep voice made me shiver.
I could stay here forever. Never leave. That was not happening, but oh, how the thought of it made me wish things were different. That I were someone else. Anyone else.
Storm took the chair across from me, and I fought the urge to look at him.
Reaching for the pitcher, I poured myself a glass of juice. “Is this freshly squeezed?” I asked him as I put it back down.
He nodded. “Yeah, I use a juicer. That was me, not Maeme.”
I took a drink as my gaze held his. Licking my lips, I placed my glass back on the table. “First a perfect cup of coffee, then fresh orange juice. You should be careful. I might not leave,” I teased.
“That’s the plan,” he replied, then reached for the eggs and began to scoop some onto his plate.
He was joking. He had to be. I let out a laugh that I didn’t feel, but I was a pro at faking it.
His eyes shot back up to lock on me. “Nothing about that statement was a joke.”
I sucked in a breath and studied him, trying to decide what he was getting at. Last night had been incredible, just like this morning had been. The best sex of my life, but this was … us. My foolishly falling in love with him didn’t change that. He’d said a lot of things last night, but it had been in the heat of the moment.
He held the eggs out to me, and I took the bowl, not sure what to say then put a spoonful on my plate.
“Briar.”
I swallowed hard. “Yes?”
“What I said last night, I meant it. Every fucking word. Just because the sun came up doesn’t change anything. Everything is different now. You’re mine.”
There was that word again. He’d used it last night more than once.
“What do you mean, I’m yours?”
He placed some bacon on his plate. “It means, I’ll take care of you. Everything. No more running.”
I stared at the eggs on my plate as my stomach knotted up. He didn’t need to promise things like that.
