Page 50 of Craving Her Vampire

I loved everything about last night. I was grateful he opened up to me, even if some of his experiences were hard to hear. I want to give him peace.

Pushing off the blankets, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and notice the clock. Shit. Four o'clock. I hurry to the window and whip open the curtain. He let me sleep all day. Searching the room, I grab his shirt off the chair and rush to the bathroom.

No wonder I have to pee so bad. I hate it when I wake up too late. I missed so much of the day when I could be spending it with Micah. After I wash my hands, I brush my teeth while running a brush through my hair. I finish quickly, pull open the door and squeak. Micah is standing bare-chested a foot from the door.

“You let me sleep too long,” I accuse, brushing aside the embarrassment of the noise I made. I have to force myself not to stare at his chest.

“You needed the sleep.” He smiles tenderly and pulls on a loose curl as it falls across my cheek. “I have food waiting for you.”

“You cooked?” I hide the shiver well caused by his touch.

“I did. I’ve learned a few recipes over the years.”

“I’m starving.” I fiddle with the hem of his shirt that flirts with the top of my thighs, and Micah doesn’t hide his interest in my bare legs.

“I took too much blood and haven’t been feeding you properly,” he says, frowning.

Now my body heats, remembering how much I enjoyed feeding him. “I’m fine.”

He scoops me into his arms, and I squeak again, circling his neck. “How are your legs feeling?” he asks and walks out of the room.

“Fine,” I whisper, which is a total lie. They always hurt to some degree, but his actions constantly sweep them out from under me.

“Liar,” he says. I look at his profile as he carries me down the stairs. “I’ll let it pass this time,” he warns. He places me in a chair at the table he already pulled out. A plate filled with breakfast food is waiting.

He must have planned to carry me. “Micah.” I swallow the lump sitting in my throat.

“Eat. I have a plan for the night.” He pulls out a chair.

“What plans?”

“Start eating, and I’ll tell you,” he says, but there is a command in his voice.

Bacon. Yum. “Just so you know, I love breakfast food.” I push a whole piece in my mouth.

“I’ll remember that.” He sips from his coffee cup.

“You drink coffee?” I dig into the hashbrowns.

“I love it.”

“How do you drink it?” I assume he would drink it blacker than black.

“Cream and sugar.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he responds, his lips twitching. “I like sweet.”

I choke on my toast. His words hold so many different meanings. I take a drink. “I hate to break it to you, but I am not always sweet. You have seen my good side so far.”

He shrugs. “I’m going to like all sides of you. I have ways of dealing with a brat.”

I cough. “Stop talking. I can’t eat while you flirt.”

“I’m flirting?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

I point my fork at him. “You know exactly what you are doing.” He drops his head, smiling into his cup. I wiggle in the chair. I forgot to put on underwear, and his words and the skin he’s showing are not helping me calm down. He remains quiet, and I am able to eat most of the food. I have been ignoring my body's needs. Shifters burn calories fast, so I need a lot of food to keep strong. I sigh and sit back. “What is your plan?”

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