Page 83 of My Grumpy Alpha

“Open.”

"What?”

“Your pretty little mouth.” He grins.

“Open.”

I part my lips, he grabs a piece of bacon and slowly presses it past my lips. It’s maple. So good I could cry.

I chew and open my mouth again.

"Greedy, are you?” he asks. His hair is tousled, his shirt unbuttoned, he looks so handsome I could die.

"Always,” I finally say after a few seconds.

"Mm.” He feeds me again and again, then fixes the steaks as well as the salad, and we sit.

It seems so normal.

I don’t want to ask him, but I know I keep staring at him while we eat at the bar. He pours me a glass of wine.

“You look like you have questions.”

“Do you have answers?” I ask.

He puts the bottle down.

“I don’t know, maybe? I just need to know what you need to ask so I can think of how to answer.”

"Do you have parents?”

"I did, at a time, right now, I have Gabe, my adoptive family who are incredible, that’s what I have.” He smiles at me widely.

“And I have you.”

I hold back tears.

“Do you, um, remember running through a forest when you were around eleven?”

He drops his fork onto the plate.

“What?”

“A forest, when you were eleven.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and exhales.

“And you wonder why I need anger therapy management. Yes. I was in a forest during that time, yes.”

"Do you…” I keep pushing.

“…remember a girl?”

He frowns.

“Of course I do, she was my best friend… at one point I thought she was my mate and….” He frowns and drops his fork.

“How would you even know that? Because it’s not funny.”