Page 113 of Bite Me

He takes the spot next to me, and I squeeze his hand. My thumb rubs the scars on the top of his hand. Now that I’m this close to him, I spot the raised skin below his tattoos. Maybe that’s why he got these tattoos, to cover up years of scars.

“It’s the literal opposite of that,” I say, averting my eyes to the sheets.

Last night was . . . so much more than lust or the fevour. We connected. The sex was great, better than I imagined sex could be, but the pleasure isn’t what I miss.

I didn’t know it was possible to feel that type of bond with another person. Especially not one that wasn’t magical. I kinda thought sex was only about satisfying passions and needs. Who was going to tell me that when it’s someone you love, it’s like carving out a piece of your soul and holding it out with both hands?

“I really don’t know what to do now, but I knew making you breakfast was the first step.”

He’s reading me, waiting for my body language, which is fine because I’m perfectly happy leaning in to kiss him.

The wetness of his lips pulls a satisfied moan from mine.

“No more pain or anything? Are you sore?” He pulls at the collar of my shirt to inspect me, and his brow dents with worry.

I shake my head. “I feel so happy right now, and I don’t think anything can ruin it. Not even Luther and Verity and that whole mess.”

“I’ll take care of it. Damage control is what Everharts are good at.”

“What should I do, then?” I check the clock. I’m a no-show for my classes. Again.

I feel as if I could sleep for another seven days. After months of waking up early and coming to my room late, taking a few days to myself doesn’t sound too bad.

“Maybe contact your sisters. I bet they’re looking for you.”

“You’re right.” I pull on his arm to chain him to the bed with me. “But I don’t want to move.”

“I, unfortunately, have a meeting with my grandfather today.”

“Wait, why?”

“He didn’t say, but he wasn’t too happy that I didn’t return his calls yesterday.”

“You shouldn’t go. You should hide here with me.”

He chuckles again. How do I make him do that every day, over and over?

The warmth of his fingers lingers on my neck as he holds my gaze. “I don’t plan on hiding. In fact, I plan on showing you off extensively once I take care of some things.”

“What things?”

“Clearing up the mess Verity and Luther made. You’re an amazing chef, and you deserve to be in the culinary club.”

“What if . . . What if I don’t want to be in the club anymore?”

“I promise I can handle Luther and Verity.”

“It’s not them . . . It’s . . . I spent all this time wanting to be there, and then I got there, and I’m not sure it’s what I want anymore. All I ever wanted was to be this famous chef in the city, and now I . . . I’m not sure what I want exactly.”

“You have time to decide.” He leans in with a soft press of his lips. “We’ll figure something out.”

“We’ll?”

“I don’t know how my grandfather is going to take the news that I’m not going through with this arranged wedding. He might be kicking me out of the club and disowning me.”

I can’t believe I almost forgot about that.

“What about Florence?”