After a few tense minutes, my mind shuts off and my body takes over allowing me to completely melt against his.
A sigh escapes, but I don’t care.
Sleep is finally coming.
“Bacon,” I whisper, my eyes still closed, but the chuckle beside me has them flying open.
“Captain rises with the sun.”
Good God, I’ll never get used to his morning voice. So scratchy and deep, it belongs on a dirty hotline.
His eyes wander across my face, before settling on mine. His instant frown has me laughing.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“Just say it.”
“Fine. Every time you look me in the eye, you glare.”
He shifts his stare to the ceiling, not denying but not bothering to explain either.
I change the subject. “Your brothers know you’re in here?”
“Don’t know. Didn’t announce it, didn’t try to hide it.”
“Maddoc.”
He looks at me.
“Why did you come in here?”
“Because I wanted to.”
Because he wanted to.
Just like that. Well, okay then.
“I’m hungry.”
He grins, standing to stretch. And damn if my greedy eyes don’t follow along.
A private, erotic dance is the only way to explain the way his muscles move during this simple act. His back tightens, sides bulge and the definition to his biceps prove carved to perfection – not that it wasn’t obvious before.
When his hands come down, I follow, squeezing my legs together when he mindlessly grips his morning wood to adjust. He’s standing half sideways, so I can only see his knuckles but the width at which they’re bent does wonders for my imagination. It was too dark to actually see his dick when it was hanging in the wind at the cabin, but I’ve got a good read on what’s under that satin now.
His eyes dart to mine and I realize a small sound made its way up my throat.
He pops a cocky eyebrow and I shrug. Can’t deny what he so clearly heard.
But the longer he stares, the hungrier I get – not for bacon.
I slip from my bed and walk past him for the door, but he grips me by the wrist and pulls me back.
“Where you goin’?”
“Food.”
“Put some clothes on,” he orders.
“I will.” He lets go slowly and I run out the door, shouting, “Later when I need to!”
I grin to myself when he growls from the hall.
I go into the kitchen to find a huge spread already set out across the kitchen island.
“Raven.”
“Packman.” I steal a piece of bacon. “So, you the house cook when you’re not hungover?”
“We all cook.”
“Really?” I scrunch my nose, and I leap up on the stool. “Even Royce?”
“Hey!” A groggy voice comes from behind me then two arms are around me. “Heard that. And yes, even me. I happen to make a mean ass lasagna.”
I spin lightly, and he grins. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“How’s tonight? Just gotta ask Cap for permission to use the kitchen. He likes cooking on the weekends.” Royce kisses my hair and pulls away.
I spin back around. “Let’s make it happen, Captain.”
He scoffs. “Cute. Because I never heard that one before.”
“Where’s Maddoc?” Royce pours a glass of chocolate milk.
Right then, Maddoc enters, having slipped on some sweatpants. How the sweats look better than the boxers, no fucking clue.
He moves for the coffeepot, a regular ass Mr. Coffee one, not some fancy espresso machine or one of those one cup contraptions.
“Only one scoop today, huh?” Captain observes, and I lean against the counter to watch them move around.
But I can’t help and notice how Maddoc grows tense at his brother’s words. “Yeah.”
I look to Royce, tipping my chin at the two across the kitchen, he leans over.
“Cap leaves the coffee making to Maddoc, so he can decide how strong he wants it.”
When I make a face that screams as if that explains it, he chuckles and leans over again.
Maddoc’s eyes meet mine right as Royce whispers, “Maddoc don’t sleep.” He laughs lightly like it’s a silly superpower.
It’s not, but you can’t fault Royce for thinking so.
People who can lay their heads down and fall asleep with ease don’t understand the struggle or how bad those of us who can’t wish we could.
They don’t know what it’s like to lay awake at night and replay minutes of your life, wondering what you could or should have done differently. Or how you could be better at something or fearing what comes next. Sometimes it’s even as simple as playing a movie back in your head, anything to fill the hours.
Time is not your friend when your mind is at the point of