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The bastard probably thought it was just something I was into, but the truth was much more painful. Stalking down the stairs and into the kitchen, I began yanking open cupboards, looking for everything I needed to cook her a better meal than day-old chicken and steamed vegetables. I was going to make her a fucking pasta dish that would ruin all other pasta dishes for her. Plus, the routine and rules of cooking would help ease that monster back into his cage.
I got lost in the motion of chopping vegetables and opening tins of tomatoes. Adding herbs and just a sprinkle of brown sugar to cut through the tartness of the tomatoes. I cooked until my rage was under control, and I could go and speak to Fallon like a rational fucking human being.
I drained the pasta, then dumped it into the sauce on the stovetop. Shay and Quillen came sniffing around when I started placing large spoonsful of pasta into a deep bowl.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” Shay said, trying to snatch a piece of penne from the pan.
I glowered at him.
“Can we have some?” Quillen asked.
“You can have some when Fallon is done eating. Not before.” Annnnd just to drive the point home, I pulled the gun from the small of my back and shoved it into Shay’s chest when he tried to steal some more. “Notbefore.”
He backed away with a half-smile on his face. “Got it.”
I grabbed a fork from the drawer, and the bowl of parmesan cheese from the counter that I’d grated while waiting for the pasta to finish cooking. When I walked back into the bedroom with my peace offering, I found that Fallon was in the shower. And I knew this because the fucking bathroom door had been left cracked.
I set the bowls on top of the nightstand and looked around the room—trying to see it through her eyes. The furniture was sparse, but that was because aside from bringing women here to fuck, I didn’t spend a lot of time at the compound. My job took me to different places, never staying too long. Then when I did have time off, all I wanted to do was stay at my cabin and be left alone.
Being at the cabin with Fallon would’ve been different though. I wanted to see her in my kitchen or curled up on the couch with her nose buried in one of my books. Waking up and knowing she was safe was turning into a new kink for me, and I could only blame the shift on the fact that she kept saving my life, and I kept saving hers. We were a mafia version of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, but Angelina had nothing on my Filly.
Fuck.
On Fallon.
Notmine.
Yet. The thought popped into my head without permission, and instead of pushing it back into the box that held every impossibility I thought I had for my life, I cupped the idea in my hands for a moment. What if she was mine? What if I could have her? Keep her safe? I shook my head. None of that could ever be. I needed sex in a specific way, and I could never degrade her like that.
So, for now, I would keep her packed away in theNever Going to Happen so Stop Dreaming, Assholebox in the back of my mind. Once this shit with the Bèar Clan was over, she could return to her safe life, and I could go back to knowing she and I would never become more than what we already were—two people who had to rely on each other for a short time.
The door to the bathroom opened, and I froze in place. I’d been so consumed by my thoughts that I hadn’t even heard the shower stop.
Fallon’s blonde hair was darker wet than it was dry. She’d towel-dried it a little, leaving the strands clumped together around her face. Her cheeks were pink, and the color spread as I dropped my gaze down to her body. The towel around her was cinched shut at the top of her breasts and barely hit her mid-thigh.
My mouth salivated.
“What are you doing back here?” she asked. “Come to rail at me again?”
“I brought you food.Realfood.” Jesus, fuck, my voice was raspy.
She followed to where I was pointing, seeing the steaming bowl of pasta. She inched closer, brushing past me as she did. The scent of the bodywash I’d left for her swept over me in a sensual caress, and I moved back a step.
She picked up the bowl and brought it closer to her face. With her eyes locked on mine, she inhaled deeply and smiled. “My favorite kind of pasta and sauce.”
I tried to not let that statement impact me too much, but, fuck, it felt good.
Now that I knew she was happy with what I’d made for her, I walked over to the door and made sure it was locked. One of her brows rose in question.
“You’re in a towel. I want to make sure none of those bastards come in here while you’re like that.”
“But you can see me like this?” she taunted gently.
Fuck. This woman. I swallowed. “I would never do anything to you.”
She held my gaze for a long minute before dropping her eyes to her bowl. Under her breath, she asked, “Even if I wanted you to?”
My whole body froze. Muscles locked down on bone. I was pretty sure my blood stopped pumping except for one specific area of my body. I must’ve misheard her. She couldn’t want …
