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A plate of something sat there, on the floor.
If Ryder really wanted to kill me, this was his chance. Poison could definitely take me out.
Deciding that I had bigger problems than a possible (but unlikely) poisoning from the brother of my maybe-platonic-mate, I slipped out of bed long enough to grab the plate. It was piled high with something that looked a hell of a lot like pot roast and mashed potatoes, which made my stomach growl immediately.
Carrying the food to the bed, I plopped down on the mattress on my ass. The plate rested on my knees as I poked everything with a fork, checking for signs of anything that might resemble poison. That lasted all of three seconds before I said screw it, and dug into the food.
Rocky watched me eat as if I was the best movie he’d ever seen, staring at me constantly.
I offered him a chunk of meat, checking to see if that was why he was staring, but he shook his head toward me.
Shrugging, I stuck it in my own mouth.
Rocco’s brother might be a gorgeous, obnoxious asshole, but he was a damn good cook.
I’d only made it through a quarter of the massive pile of food on the plate before I felt stuffed, and then set the plate on the ground so Rocky could eat it.
He went over to check the door first—locked—and then came over and ate the food while I tucked my legs back under the blankets.
The whole bed smelled like a damned sex dream, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that while my platonic-husband watched through the eyes of his wolf.
So I forced my own eyes to close, and tried my best to relax.
Rocky hopped back up and slid under the blankets to snuggle with me a moment later. It wasn’t until his warm fur was snuggled up against my face that I really calmed down, and as stupid as it was, his presence had my eyes closing. It was only a minute or two after that when the steady in and out of his breathing lulled me to sleep.
