AllFreeNovel
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“I’ve never been prouder than I am in this moment,” I joke, gesturing at the nail marks visible under his gray tank top. “So our girl’s a scratcher, huh?”
I’m expecting some version of “fuck all the way off, Damon,” but instead Cassian winces.
Uh oh.
Considering I can’t remember the last time he even talked to a girl, there’s a chance he might have had some stamina issues.
“What?” I ask, pausing at the look on his face. “Were you rusty?”
His cringe stretches into a grimace. I wipe a towel over my forehead and drop onto the weight bench, giving him my undivided attention, along with a shrug I hope looks casual. “You can tell me. I won’t be a dick. Just this once.”
He lets out a deep breath, hanging his head back to mutter at the ceiling. “I cannot believe I’m doing this shit.” He rolls his head forward and his shoulders back. “I’ll make you a deal.”
Oh, fuck yeah. “I’m listening.”
His face falls into his familiar frown, but he lays out his offer anyway, snapping in his no-nonsense way. “I’ll teach you all about Remi if you teach me all about sex.”
I blink. Then blink again. “Oh-kay…”
“We can trade information,” he goes on. “Since you don’t know anything about her yet, and I don’t know anything about fucking or knotting omegas. Or… anyone.”
My eyes bug out. “You don’t—You didn’t?—”
“Not until last night,” he grits. “And she’s happy. Very happy. But she’s also the sweetest fucking thing, and I know she wouldn’t necessarily tell me if she wasn’t happy, so I need to learn… everything.”
My mouth drops open. “So. Wait. Wait. This whole time, you were?—”
“Yes,” he grinds out, losing his patience. “Jesus. Do you want to trade or not?”
I picture us trading tips. A smile stretches over my face. I reach behind myself and hand him one of the weights I was using. I know from experience—sometimes, when you have to humiliate yourself by admitting you need help, it’s easier when you have something else to pretend to do.
It works. He sits opposite me and starts doing curls. I watch the way he takes a deep breath and holds it for a second, feeling a pang of sympathy for him.
All this time, my random hook-ups and the bits of connection they provided were the only way I stayed sane. But Cass has been totally alone. More alone than I realized.
After a second, he blows out a sigh and nods at me, determination stealing his gaze.
Because he’s tough as fuck. The kind of guy I’ve always appreciated having on my team.
So I do my best not to let my shit-eating grin show as I settle in. “Okay, lesson one—wait. How long is your tongue?"
“So, these people just… bake?”
Remi sits next to me on the couch, nodding with big golden-blue eyes that reflect late afternoon sunshine back at me. “In the tent.”
“They bake in a tent,” I repeat, trying to get a handle on her favorite Netflix binge. “They bake in a tent, and they’re all British?”
“No,” she corrects, “They all live in the UK. They can be from all over.”
I squint at the white tent on the screen, the rows of pastel mini-kitchens set up inside of it. “And they… try to eat all of the desserts?”
Her giggle has become my favorite sound in the world. Whether I’m kissing her neck, twirling her around in her skirts, or tackling her into the couch every evening. That one little laugh sets my world right-side up.
“They are judged on how well they bake things,” she explains. A thought crosses over her face, a crease forming between her brows. She picks up the AppleTV remote and hands it to me.
I hate the phony smile she pastes onto her face. “Let’s watch what you want to watch,” she suggests, just a bit too bright to be believable. “I’ve…been here all day.”
She does that. The small white lies. Always trying to please us instead of telling us what she wants or likes.
