I stare after him in disbelief. “Wait… You reallyaren’tgoing to kiss me?”
He glances back over his shoulder, his gaze darkening as it settles on me.
“No.” His voice stays calm and devastatingly controlled as he keeps a brisk pace. “You had two cups of coffee and half a slice of toast for breakfast. I’m going to take care of you first.”
I hurry after him while trying unsuccessfully to ignore the way warmth keeps blooming beneath my ribs every time he says things like “take care of you.”This man is going to psychologically ruin me.
The kitchen is quieter now compared to the earlier chaos. Rain taps steadily against the windows while soft yellow lighting glows warm across marble countertops and polished wood cabinets. Damon moves through the space, like he belongs here, heading straight for the refrigeratorand pulling out ingredients with practiced efficiency, while I hover awkwardly near the island.
Turkey.
Cheese.
Lettuce.
Tomatoes.
Bread.
This man is actually making me a sandwich.
“You’re serious?” I ask incredulously.
“Very.”
I lean against the counter, studying him. His sleeves are rolled to his forearms, tattoos flexing beneath his tanned skin every time his hands move. Dark hair falls slightly messy across his forehead as he works. It’s unfair how attractive he is.
“How is it possible to look that good at making a sandwich?” One corner of his mouth twitches faintly as he spreads mustard onto bread with maddening concentration for another moment before he finally asks, “Okay, what gives? What’s your fascination with feeding me?”
His eyes lift briefly to mine. “You’re a smart girl, trouble. Why doyouthink?”
I shrug slightly. “Is it because I skip meals?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it?”
Damon sets the knife down carefully before turning toward me fully. “No,” he replies quietly. “You spend too much time neglecting yourself.”
Rain continues tapping softly against the windows while the weight of his attention fully settles over me.
“You forget to eat when you’re stressed,” he continues. “Living on caffeine and anxiety. You convince yourself you’re fine when you’re exhausted.” He scowls slightly, unable to hide his disapproval. “And half the time, you’re so focused on everyone else’s needs and comfort that you ignore your own completely.”
My chest tightens unexpectedly, because that’s all alarmingly accurate
“I promised to protect you,” Damon states simply. “That includes protecting youfrom yourself. And from now on,” he adds more softly, his gaze steadily holding mine, “I expect you to take care of that big, beautiful body of yours properly. That means eating.”
Warmth spreads slowly through me, because it’s been a long time since someone has conveyed that taking care of me actually mattered.
“And if I don’t?” I brat. The spark in his eyes darkens instantly, like he recognizesexactlywhat I’m doing.
Damon slides the finished sandwich onto a plate before carrying it over to me. “Then there’ll be consequences.”
Heat rushes up my spine and burns the back of my neck. I eye the turkey sandwich suspiciously as he sets it in front of me before pushing the plate slightly toward him. “What kind of consequences?”
His gaze drags slowly over my face, then slowly up and down my body. The look alone nearly makes me combust. “The kind with my hand landing firmly across that gorgeous backside of yours.”
“You wouldn’t,” I hiss, knowing damn well he would.
