I turn back to him and take his face in my hands. “You planned this.”
“Maybe.”
“You roped my brother into it.”
“Might have.”
“You let me think this was hunting.”
He shrugs. “Technically, not wrong — I caught what I came for.” I kiss him again, slower this time. “Eat,” he says quietly, breaking the kiss. “Then you can do whatever you want to me.”
I snort. “You’re testing your luck.” He plates the food, and I watch him move around, the small domestic motions — the way he reaches for salt, and the way he wipes the edge of the plate like he cares whether it looks right. It makes something twist in me; it’s a tightness that has nothing to do with hunger.
He sets my plate down, then his, then sits, and I take one bite to prove I’m cooperative. It tastes good, really good.
“Well?” he asks, watching my face.
I chew slowly. “You’re not completely useless.” He huffs a laugh and looks down at his plate, but I see the relief and the way he relaxes a fraction, as if he’s been waiting for approval.
I reach out and drag my fingers along his arm. “Eat,” he reminds me, his voice strained.
“I am eating,” I say, and then I lean forward quickly and kiss his neck, making Caiden’s breath catch, then I sit back, taking another bite as if nothing happened.
“Are you going to do that the whole time?” he asks, eyes narrowing at me.
“Yes,” I say simply. He mutters something under his breath in English that sounds like a prayer and a threat at the same time.
I keep eating while my foot slides along his shin beneath the table, while my fingers occasionally brush his knee, and while I lean close enough to breathe him in and then retreat again.
I finish my plate, and he finishes his, but faster, like he’s trying to get through the last obstacle. When we’re done, I pick up the plates and slide out of the chair, walking behind him to drop them into the sink, close enough that my body brushes his back.
His back straightens immediately.
I turn and rest my hands on his shoulders, my thumbs pressing in lightly at the base of his neck. His skin is warm, solid, and very real. “You came back.”
He nods once, still facing forward. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I add, because I need him to understand what that means.
His hands flatten on the table, and he exhales. “I know,” he agrees. “I did it anyway.” I lean down and press my mouth to the side of his neck, just below the ear.
The small kiss makes him shiver.
“Ari...” he whispers. I straighten up and move around him until I’m in front of him, standing between his knees. He looks up at me like I’m something dangerous and holy, and I want to bite him just for that.
I hook my fingers under his chin, and his eyes lock onto mine. “Detka,” I say softly. “Tell me why.”
He swallows, then his eyes flick away for a second, like he’s searching for an answer that won’t make him sound vulnerable. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, looking back at me.
“Say it properly,” I tell him, keeping my face blank and my voice controlled.
“I came back for you.” I drop my hand from his chin and step back a pace, processing his words and what they mean.
Caiden stands slowly, as if he’s approaching a scared animal. “I love you. My future is you. That’s my decision, as if there was ever going to be another.” He doesn’t reach for me; he waits. I take a step back into him myself, because I refuse to let him think I’m afraid.
And I kiss him.
His hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer. His mouth opens under mine like he’s starving and has been for months. He presses forward, and I feel the hard line of him against my stomach, and my entire body wakes up instantly. We stumble toward the bed because we’re not walking; we’re colliding.
