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She licked her lips as she watched my hands, and then she nodded. She took a small bite of the pot roast first. As her lips wrapped around her fork, her eyes closed and a moan slipped from her. The sound was so innocent, yet so fucking erotic, I had to grip the side of the island to keep from reaching for her.
Her eyes snapped open, and she blushed, mouthing, “Sorry,” before taking another bite, this time with some of the baby potatoes and carrots.
Groaning, I turned my attention to my own plate. I’d gone for the meatloaf, leaving the chili in case Delaney was still hungry after she finished her lasagna and pot roast. Given how tiny she was, I wanted to feed her until she begged me to stop…
And then I wanted to feast on her.
Holding back yet another groan, I ate in silence for a while, watching her out of the corner of my eye. Each bite she took was delicate, almost artful. I enjoyed watching her more than I did eating—and considering Mom’s meatloaf was one of my favorite things in the world, that was saying a hell of a lot.
After only a few minutes, she set down her fork and then wrapped her arms around herself, a pitiful sound leaving her throat. Her face turned red when she noticed me watching her with concern, and her chin began to tremble again.
Instead of asking her what was wrong, I uncapped her bottle of water and offered it to her. Hand trembling, she took it from me and sipped from it. After a while, she began to relax again, and I figured her stomach pains had passed. Without looking at me, she picked up her fork and thankfully began to eat once again.
When her gaze fell on my plate, I lifted a bite of the meatloaf and mashed potatoes to her lips. Without hesitation, she opened her mouth and accepted the bite. I was rewarded with that little pleased moan, and I couldn’t help grinning.
“My mom makes the best meatloaf in the world,” I signed as I spoke. “It’s my favorite.”
Her eyes brightened. “My mom made the best enchiladas. It’s one of a million things I miss the most about her.”
“She’s gone?”
Delaney gave a tiny nod. “She and my dad died in an explosion. When I lost my hearing.” She shuddered, and I was quick to wrap an arm around her shoulders in case she was cold. “I was sent to live with my dad’s sister and her husband when I was ten.”
“I’m sorry you lost them.” I tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, wishing I could offer more comfort than just words, but suddenly, I needed to know how old she was. At first glance, I thought maybe she was at least twenty, but the longer I looked at her, the younger she seemed. “How long did you live with your aunt and uncle?”
“Eight years. I left…” Her hands paused before continuing. “I left the night before I turned eighteen. That was about ten weeks ago.”
Relief washed over me that she was legal. Not that I was all that confident I would have been able to keep my hands to myself if she weren’t. This little treasure was filling me with emotions I didn’t even have a name for, but I knew I would kill anyone who tried to take her away from me.
When Ben and Lexa started dating, I’d scoffed when my sister told me their love had been instant. One look and she knew she wanted to be with him. That he was the sheriff had been the only thing that had stopped her. With our dad the Angel’s Halo MC president, Lexa hooking up with the law hadn’t been the smartest decision she’d ever made.
But Dad eventually realized having Ben in the family was a good thing. My brother-in-law would break every law known to man if it meant protecting Lexa and making her happy. He’d covered up shit left and right since she’d told him she loved him. For
her, Mom, the MC.
Me.
Killing a man and having the sheriff cover it up was one thing, especially when that man had been Carlo Santino.
Ben finding out I had an underage girl in my apartment? Probably not so much.
Fuck, who was I kidding? If Mom or Lexa found out I had an underage girl in my apartment, they would murder me.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry about that. Delaney was eighteen. No one would come after me with a sawed-off shotgun.
I pushed my plate away and gave her my undivided attention. “You’ve been on the streets for ten weeks?”
She shrugged, using her fork to pick at her lasagna.
Grasping her chin, I tipped her head back so she had to look at me. “Did your aunt and uncle do anything to hurt you?” I asked between clenched teeth as I signed.
She was quick to shake her head, but there was something in her pretty eyes that told me different.
“Then why did you run?” I demanded.
Tears filled her eyes. I felt like an asshole for making her cry, but I needed answers. If someone had harmed her, they would be meeting the angel of death very, very soon. There was no fucking way I would let anyone who hurt her breathe another day.
“Marta, their housekeeper…she told me to run,” she responded after a moment. “She didn’t tell me why. But I knew. Uncle Tony isn’t a good person. The people who came to the house…” She shuddered again. “I don’t know who they were. They always kept me in my room when I wasn’t at school. But I could just tell…you know?”
