Page 92 of Nightshades
He grunts.
To me, it takes him forever to take a seat because he is so tall. It has me rolling my lips together to keep from laughing. The couch moans under the threat of his weight—I can relate—and his half of the sofa begins to dip in the middle, threatening to break again.
“We will make you a silverware you can hold, but until then,” I say, picking up my fork and getting a little bit of everything on it. Rice, meat, avocado, and then I get onto my knees so I can reach him. “Let me take care of you, Shade.”
His eyes widen, those black eyes shining more than usual. I thought he would fight me on this, but to my surprise, he leans back.
Grinning, I snag the plate and straddle his lap, so I’m closer, inching the fork to his mouth.
He stares at me so intensely that I have to focus on not dropping the fork. I have to spread my legs as far as they can due to how big his thighs are. His hands settle on my waist as I continue to feed him and take bites in between.
“It’s really been that long?” I ask, breaking the silence.
He chews, eyes closing, and he groans in approval. “That’s delicious. Thank you for making me a dish that brings you comfort.” His lashes flutter, the expanse of space beaming into me again. “It now brings me comfort.”
Before I give him the next bite, I lean in, pressing a gentle, easy kiss against him. “I’ll always bring you comfort, Shade. In any way. In every way.” There’s no way I gave him enough food, but learning curve; I’ve never fed a giant.
We fall into another comfortable silence, but I can tell something is on his mind.
“Even when I was with Shallow Sinners, the motorcycle club I was a part of when I was human, I ate food that was easy and quick. Homemade meals would take me back to that night, the last time I had my mother’s cooking, and I know how that sounds. I sound like a child?—”
“I’ve seen that memory, remember. You don’t sound like a child. You sound like someone who has been traumatized. You had to do a lot that night, Shade. You had to do something most people will never do.” I drop the fork onto the empty plate and set it down instead of grabbing the other plate of food. Scooting closer to him, I realize that maybe I’m not that hungry anyway now that I have this green giant in front of me.
I slip my hands up his chest, my fingertips grazing over the tendons in his neck, and finally, I cup his face. “It’s okay to avoid the things you are protecting yourself from.”
He leans in, his arms circling around my entire body to haul me closer. “I don’t want to protect myself from you,” he says, the earnestness in his tone has me become a little dizzy. “I’ve protected myself from everyone my entire life. Even Shallow Sinners. They were so good to me, but I didn’t let them get to know me. I mean, it’s good I didn’t, right? Look at me now. They probably would have tried to burn me at the stake.”
“Cállate,” I snap, silencing him by placing my finger over his mouth.
“I don’t know what that means, but I like it when you talk to me in Spanish,” he rumbles, his chest quaking with a growl.
I giggle, pressing a kiss against his lips. “It means shut up.”
“You would have never let them get close enough to you to kill you, Shade. You would have torn them all apart if they tried, and I would have helped you burn down the clubhouse.”
Those roots I love so much wrap around me too, almost like they are wrapping me in a hug.
“Your lips taste like coffee,” he says out of nowhere, kissing me again. His tongue slips across mine, and he moans, digging his fingers into my sides.
“I needed some before you came home. I was tired.”
“Good. I can smell me in your blood.”
I cock my head, confused. “What do you mean?”
He smirks. “I crushed some of my roots into dust and poured them into your coffee container.”
I gasp in horror. “No! Hay Dios mío, Shade. I made my coworkers’ coffee! They drank it.”
“They don’t need to know.”
“What’s that do? Will it hurt them?”
“No, they didn’t have enough for it to matter, but you drink it every day.” He buries his face against the side of my throat and inhales, inhaling me as if I’m the air he needs to breathe. “I love how you fucking smell, and the best part is, our scents are combined. No one can make the mistake of you not belonging to me.” I let him explore, his nose dragging across my neck, then he fists my hair, bringing it against his face, and rubs the silky strands across his cheek. “I could feel and smell you all day.”
I’ve never had anyone who liked to sniff me as much as Shade does. I love it. It’s his love language, I think.
“Talk to me in Spanish, Little Dream,” he says, reminding me of his request.