Slay (Storm MC 4)

in the morning.

He heard me and turned.

I ignored the bruises on his body.

Smiling at him, I murmured, “Morning.”

Heat simmered in his eyes. “Come here,” he ordered.

My tummy fluttered.

I did what he said, and he pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

I could get lost in his kisses. Rough to show his passion and need. Soft to show his tenderness and care. And the way he injected rough and soft into the one kiss made my knees weak.

When he ended the kiss, he said, “I didn’t know what you like for breakfast but I figured the bacon and eggs I found in the fridge were a sign.”

He made me breakfast.

His eyes narrowed.

“What was that look?” he asked.

I grinned and laid a palm to his face. “That was happiness. And pure fucking amazement that I finally found a man who knows how to use kitchen utensils.”

He returned my grin, and fuck me, there needed to be more of that shit in my life. Smiles from Donovan lit my world. “I’m domesticated, baby. My mother taught me well,” he said.

“I look forward to meeting her one day. The wonderful woman who produced a man as good as you.”

His eyes widened, and his shoulders tightened.

I pulled his face down to mine to get close. “I don’t mean right away. When you’re ready,” I said softly.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, gruffly. “She’d like you. She’s always asking me when I’m gonna find a woman and settle down.”

“She sounds amazing, and I have no doubt she is. I mean, any woman who can teach their son to look after a woman the way you do must be a good woman.”

“She is a good woman. I just wish she’d met a good man to share that with.”

He still seemed a little uncomfortable with this conversation so I reached around and smacked his ass. “I’m hungry. Feed me.”

The grin returned to his face, and he gave me another quick kiss before moving into action. He’d found everything he needed and a couple of moments later had food on plates and coffee in mugs.

I eyed all the food he’d cooked. “Are you really hungry?”

“No. I made enough for Annie, too. Wasn’t sure if she’d want any, but figured I’d make some in case.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“No.”

Confused eyes came to mine. “What?”

I walked to where he was, placed my hand gently on his chest, looked up into his eyes, and said, “No, I’m not thanking you for cooking breakfast. I’m thanking you for being you. For being so good, so kind . . . so thoughtful. I’ve never had that from a man in my life, not even from my father. I know this thing between us is only new, and what I’m about to say might not be what you’re ready to hear . . . fuck, I’m not sure it’s what I’m ready to say, but I have to say it. I need you to know it.”

He stared at me, waiting for what I had to let him know. I couldn’t read his emotion. It didn’t matter anyway; this was more for me than for him. He could do whatever he wanted with it.