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Her breath hitched as I spoke into her ear, my voice soft and soothing. This was bolder than I usually would dare to be but she drew out the protective omega in me. I wanted to hide her behind me and help her take on the world.
Right now, that meant teaching her how to cook fajitas.
“Try this, make them a bit thinner then they’ll cook a bit more evenly,” I said in a quiet husk as I showed her what I meant. Each knife slice had her breath picking up and my cock was already hardening from the proximity. The mixed scent of our slick filled the air but I refused to act on it.
Finally, I stepped back and grabbed a second cutting board. At least she had the basics here though from what I understand, that was all her sister’s mate, Dean. He’d left behind the essentials when she took over his lease.
I pulled out a skillet and started heating the pan before moving onto the next step. Cooking was such a soothing, methodical process that it had my overthinking falling away.
When I pulled out the raw chicken her nose wrinkled. She took a physical step away from me as if the chicken might cluck at her in this form.
“You don’t like touching raw meat?” I teased as I pulled it out of the package and disposed of the trash.
“Does anyone?” she asked.
“It doesn’t bother me,” I said as I started cutting the chicken into pieces and dropping it in the skillet. The meat started to sizzle already and I went to the sink. “Help me out?”
She turned on the water and tested the heat before pumping soap into my hand. I washed up and dried my hands on my apron before hurrying to the skillet and turning the chicken.
Then I was moving back to disinfect the counter as she put her perfectly cut veggies in a bowl by the stove to wait their turn.
“You cut those beautifully. I knew you were a fast learner,” I said. Her cheeks pinked from the praise and she tucked her shoulder-length, blonde hair behind her ear.
“I’m stubborn,” she laughed, underplaying her accomplishments. I had a feeling she did that a lot. Most of her success was likely tied to that family name of hers and she had never had a chance to figure out who she was without it.
The fact that I was able to give her something, even as small as learning to cook something new, had pride filling me.
“You may be, but you’re also resourceful and a quick learner,” I said as I brushed my hand over hers then turned back to the food.
She made a small sound but didn’t argue. Tori hopped onto the counter just out of reach of the stove and watched me. Something was bothering her and it wasn’t something small. There was a shift in her since we came back and her green eyes lacked the warmth that was there before we got in our cars.
“Is everything alright, sweetheart?”
Her eyes widened at the name but instead of telling me it was too much, tears filled her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I turned the heat to low and pulled her into my arms. She clung to me, her fingers fisting into my sweater and her entire body shaking. I didn’t force her to talk or tell me what was wrong, instead I held her close and whispered reassurances in her ear.
If I could help her battle her demons I would. But if all she needed was support, I could provide that, too.
I’d be whatever she needed from me as long as she didn’t pull away.
When her sobs turned to quiet sniffles she gave me one last squeeze and pulled away. Her hair was sticking up and her eyes were shining with tears still, but she looked gorgeous.
“Don’t you dare apologize to me for that, Tori. If you need me to listen, I’ll always be here, but if you need to cry, I will hold you through it.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, the sound laced in so much more than a simple show of gratitude.
I nodded once and went back to the skillet, kicking up the heat a few notches and getting back to work. She was close enough now that I reached over and put a hand on her thigh, keeping it there as I worked.
We’d created a bubble around ourselves and I didn’t want to break it.
“It’s done,” I finally said as I took my hand away. She jumped down from her place and started to grab out plates while I started warming tortillas. Even without words we were working perfectly together, falling into a tentative synchronicity that I didn’t want to lose.
“Table?” I asked.
“How about the balcony? It’s nice,” she said as she went to the sliding door and pushed it open. She had two chairs and a small table out there and the sun was just starting to set.
“Perfect,” I said, plating our food up and letting her add her toppings before following her out.
