let out a long breath of air out. The nerves were eating me whole. I was jittery on my way down to the kitchen. I felt like my mind was going a million miles an hour.
I didn’t even know what I was grabbing for when I opened the fridge and began unpacking it, throwing random shit on the counter while my mind blazed.
He was here, and I was missing him already.
My fingers trembled as I opened the bag of bread and began throwing down slices on the bare counter. I felt an intense wave of adrenaline surge through me as I thought of his wet body stepping out of the bathroom. My body warmed at the way he dropped that towel, at how big he was, at how focused his gaze was when he looked at me.
It was his eyes that had me burning the most, I realized. Not his decadent body, nor his dominant ambiance, but his eyes, vulnerable and deeply focused.
With shaky hands, I sliced some ham and shredded some cheese and put on a bit too much mayonnaise. It was a sad looking sandwich, but it would have to do. He was hungry, so I highly doubted he cared what he’d eat after eight years of prison food.
Eight. Years.
I lost a little balance just thinking about it.
With the sandwich on a plate and a tall glass of orange juice, I strode back up the stairs and to the bedroom. I found him emerging from the closet. To my dismay, he was wearing a pair of black briefs he must have dug out from his pile of clothes. God, had I seriously forgotten to pull out a pair of underwear for him?
Why did I have the feeling he’d dressed to make me comfortable? I wished I hadn’t acted so tense now.
I tried to busy myself by putting away the random clothing strewn on the dresser as he ate on the edge of the bed, the plate in his lap, the glass of juice on the floor beside his feet. I sensed his eyes on me the entire time, and the few moments I mustered the bravery to look at him, our eyes connected, and my cheeks burned.
“You alright, pup?” he suddenly asked.
Pup. Like he’d never forgotten.
I stopped moving this time and turned to him, smiling brightly by default. “Fine, Conor.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Relax, then,” he told me. “I don’t bite.”
I stood still, forcing myself to look at him as his words went through me. I flushed deeply, unable to quiet the memory those words triggered. “You said that to me once, didn’t you?”
His lips spread into a light smile. “I did.”
“When was that?”
“When we met,” he answered straightaway.
“At the party?”
“Yeah.”
I made a show of narrowing my eyes. “With that girl draped over you.”
He sounded amused. “It was after I kicked her off.”
“No,” I disagreed. “Pretty sure she was still sitting in your lap.”
He shook his head determinedly. “It wasn’t.”
“I guess we remember it differently,” I cheekily replied.
“Who would you rather believe?” he questioned, lightly. “The girl who’s probably catalogued a thousand more memories since then over the last eight years? Or the guy locked up, living the same day on repeat, with nothing to do but relive the memories up until the point of incarceration?”
I went still, catching the seriousness in his tone, though his eyes remained light. I let out a long breath, nodding carefully in response. “Okay, I believe you.”
He finished the sandwich and then downed the drink in record time. He wasn’t pale looking anymore. His eyes appeared brighter and his composure more relaxed, though his expression appeared thoughtful. Standing up, he took the plate and the glass to the dresser and settled them on top. Then he turned around to face me.
I didn’t realize it, but every step he made, I’d managed to take a step too, only in the opposite direction. I wasn’t sure why, either. On some base level I wanted to be close to him, yet my body seemed to be behaving differently.
He seemed to notice too.
He took a step in my direction, and I took a step away, my heart hammering in my chest as it became painfully obvious.
It might have been humorous from an outsider’s perspective. Might have even looked predatory on his end. Here was this man, hulking and strong, moving decidedly to me, and there I was, the frightened little prey, maintaining the distance as if he might lunge at me.