Page 40 of Inked Desires

“Yeah. Sorry I was being a dick,” I murmur—the apology I’d meant to give himbeforegoing shopping.

He kisses my forehead. That warmth floods my chest, grounding me.

“It’s okay. Your stuff’s upstairs. Let’s eat, then you can unpack,” he says, brushing my flare-up away with ease.

I’m grateful he accepts me, flaws and all. Some days, I can’t even stand myself—but Ares? He makes it look easy.

CHAPTER 10

ARÈS

The sun shines through my eyelids, chasing away the last traces of sleep from my mind. I reach out across the bed, feeling around. If I’m not mistaken, I should land on Andrew’s bare ass. My fingers stretch a little further, but all they meet is cold emptiness.

I open my eyes and look around the room. I’m alone. Suddenly, I sit up straight. Where has he gone? I throw off the covers and hastily pull on my sweatpants before rushing down the hall.

A clicking sound catches my attention. I stride toward the kitchen and stop, relieved.

Andrew is there, standing by the stove, wearing my T-shirt. The smell tells me he’s frying bacon.

I finally exhale. Only then do I notice how fast my heart is pounding. I search inside myself for the reason behind this reaction. But it’s just a leftover from the past. When William disappeared, I looked for him like a madman. My brain is playing tricks, dredging up memories that have nothing to do with my current life. I clench my fists and focus on my breathing to chase away the heavy weight in my chest.

A few seconds are enough to regain control. When I’m sure of myself, I enter the room and approach Andrew, half-naked. Living with someone in this apartment still feels strange.

My arms naturally wrap around his waist. A surprised gasp echoes against the kitchen walls. I ignore his protest and bury my nose in his neck. I take a deep breath. His scent reminds me of summer rain. It soothes the last tensions in my muscles as I feel his body vibrate beneath my hands. Every time I touch him, an irresistible urge to possess him floods me. It’s not just desire—it’s a visceral need. I want him to belong to me, to depend on me, to have no reason to ever leave this place.

“Good morning,” he says softly.

I growl lightly against his neck, rubbing myself gently against him. Yeah, I could get used to this.

A sizzling sound interrupts our moment. Andrew jumps suddenly. Reluctantly, I open my eyes. He rubs his arm.

“Bacon’s cruel to me,” he jokes, pointing to the grease splatters.

I sigh and loosen my grip. I grab a fork and gently push him toward the free chair.

“Let me do it before you burn yourself completely,” I say, taking his place by the stove.

“But I wanted to make you breakfast, not the other way around,” he protests softly.

“It’s already done,” I reply, pointing to the set table.

The eggs simmer gently, but I fear they’re already overcooked. He doesn’t seem used to cooking.

“Do you like cooking?” I ask, curious to learn more.

“I used to like it,” he says.

I think about his answer. Andrew never says things lightly. That means before Jace, he enjoyed it.

“He didn’t want you to cook for him?”

Silence falls behind me. I know he doesn’t like talking about that. Maybe I should stop pushing. But I need to understand what he went through to protect him. How can I defend someone if I don’t know what threatens them?

“We had a cleaning lady. I just had to look good, not be competent,” he finally admits.

That bastard might as well have bought a blow-up doll. They don’t talk, don’t make mistakes, don’t complain when you use them, and don’t require any effort. Just regular cleaning so they don’t start to stink or fall apart.

My phone rings, breaking our conversation. I take the bacon out of the pan.