Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
I worked until it was almost time to start dinner. I’d needed to draw even though it was hard to leave him alone for that long.
After cleaning and putting my supplies away, I locked the room and returned to the house. When I walked inside, I immediately smelled him. The sweet scent that always clung to his skin filled my home, and that made something inside me rumble.
I took off my coat, then went to the couch where Cyrus was curled into a ball, sleeping. His face was flushed slightly, which made his freckles pop against his skin. His hair was messy, sleep rumpled. He looked so content, like he was able to shed while he slept all the hurt and bad things that happened to him. I watched him breathe for a moment, studied each and every freckle that danced across his nose and cheekbones, mapped out a route on his pretty face that only I would know.
My eye caught on the purple mark on his neck, the one I’d put there with my mouth, staking my claim on him. Seeing it made my chest puff out, made me feel like the king of this mountain.
I didn’t know how he could do this, how he could sleep through my coming inside and standing over him this way. I yearned to touch him but didn’t want to disturb him, so I made my way into the kitchen as quietly as possible to prepare dinner.
Though it was better when I started the sauce early and let it simmer all day, I decided to make spaghetti. I put the sauce on first, adding all my favorite spices before chopping fresh garlic from my garden to add.
I was about to start the meatballs, when I heard Cyrus stir on the couch.
“You’re here,” he said softly.
Where else would I be? But then, I’d walked out on him again, hadn’t told him what I was doing, and was gone for over ten hours. “I’m sorry,” I said, wanting to find a way to continue to give him more words because Cyrus deserved them.
He got off the couch and walked over. “You don’t need to be sorry. You told me you had something to do, and you did it.”
I signaled for him to sit on the stool.
“Spaghetti?” he asked.
“Yes. Do you like it?”
“I do. Like I said, I’ll eat just about anything. When you don’t always know where your next meal is coming from, you learn not to be picky.”
Tell him. Give him a piece of yourself.
Without looking at him, I said, “I would be denied food sometimes.”
Cyrus inhaled sharply, likely surprised by what I was giving him. I was too. Blood rushed through me, my ears sounding echoey.
“I was expected to be strong.”
“How does that make you stronger? You need sustenance.”
“Mentally.” When he opened his mouth, I shook my head.
Cyrus got the message and said, “You have paint on your cheek. Were you painting?”
Yes. You. I was painting and drawing you.
I nodded. “Garlic bread?”
“Are you really eating spaghetti if you don’t have garlic bread?” he replied playfully.
I chuckled, and we both froze, our gazes snapping together as if neither of us could believe it. I knew I couldn’t, couldn’t make sense of the sound that had come out of my mouth even though I knew what it was. When was the last time I’d made that sound? Here or there at myself if I did something silly or saw an animal do something funny, but not where someone else could hear. Not since I was a child.
“I like the way your laugh sounds,” Cyrus told me. “I appreciate your sharing it with me.”
Hearing him say that made me want to do it more. I wanted to please him, wanted to make him feel good in ways no one ever had before. “I like yours too,” I admitted.
“But mine isn’t something special.”
“Maybe it is to me.”
“Oh.” His mouth made a cute O.
“Just so you know,” Cyrus said, “I might start laughing all the time now. Just for no good reason, I’ll laugh so I can be cute to you.”
He would likely always be cute to me now, but I kept those words inside.
Cyrus started to tell me about the book he was reading, and I let him, even though I hadn’t read it. I finished cooking, made us plates, and we sat in the living room like we always did.
“You can sit by me on the couch,” he prompted, patting the cushion. I shook my head. We needed to discuss the plan for tonight and every night afterward because he was going to be here, staying in my cabin with me.
The thought both excited me and made my gut twist.
Cyrus moaned as he took a bite, and that was enough to get my mind off it and make blood head toward my groin. It was just a sound, but it felt like a mating call to me, like any noise slipping past his lips resulted in me needing him.