Page 35 of North’s Claim

Like maybe I could be more than what they all tried to break me into.

Last night might’ve just been a moment to him.

But to me felt like something I didn’t think I’d ever get to have.

A beginning.

My fingers brush the base of my neck where his hand held me steady, firm and careful all at once. I can still feel the imprint of his voice, his heat, the way he said my name.

Like I mattered.

And whether it lasts or not, I’ll carry that with me.

I open the fridge and gather the ingredients, moving quietly. Whisking the pancake batter feels almost sacred in the silence. Like a small gift I’m offering to this new version of myself, the one who feels worthy of making breakfast in someone else’s kitchen. In his kitchen.

The sound of bare feet shuffling in breaks the stillness. Arms slide around my waist.

I freeze.

But only for a second.

His scent, the warmth of his body, the safety of his hold... it sinks into me. I melt into him. “You’re up early,” he rumbles into my neck.

“So are you,” I murmur.

He presses a kiss to the side of my head, then scoops me up with a grunt.

“North!”

He grins through the pain and sets me down on the counter. I barely have a second to protest before his hands are on my knees, gently parting my legs.

Heat rushes to my cheeks and lower.

I look down at him. The bruises on his chest, arm, and thigh make me ache for him, but he’s already smirking.

“Pancakes can wait,” he says.

I swallow. “Why?”

His grin deepens as he drops to his knees in front of me. “Because I want my breakfast first.”

I hold my breath as he leans in, trailing kisses along the inside of my thigh.

“North...” I whisper, trembling.

He glances up, that wicked glint in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Firefly. I know exactly what you need.”

His mouth is on me before I can breathe another word. Slow at first. Teasing. Then deeper. Rougher. Possessed.

My hands fist in his hair. I cry out, loud and shameless, when he sucks just right. When his tongue circles that spot like he was born to ruin me.

And ruin me, he does.

My thighs clamp around his head as the orgasm crashes over me, wild and raw. I scream his name but he doesn’t stop. Not until I’m shaking, squirting against his mouth, my body wrung out like a storm just passed through me.

He stands slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He then presses a kiss to my forehead. “That’s what a good morning looks like.”

I can barely catch my breath, let alone speak. Still floating, I manage a weak, “So... about those pancakes?”