Page 62 of Betrayed Auctioned Mate

“Waffles?” I repeat. “I think I can manage that.”

I start pulling out the ingredients from the fridge, enjoying the routine of it. There’s something so simple, so grounding, about making food for her after a night like this. It reminds me of how far we’ve come. How different things are now compared to just a few months ago.

As I whisk the batter, I glance over at Keira. She’s lying on her back, one arm draped lazily over her eyes, but there’s a soft smile on her lips. Her guard is down. Seeing her like this fills me with a warmth that no amount of whiskey could ever replicate.

It’s been three months since we took down the auction ring, since we ended the nightmare that haunted so many lives. Three months of living in this new safety and security we’ve created for ourselves, where the darkness no longer lurks around every corner. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours.

And Keira… she’s happy. Truly happy. I can see it in the way she laughs more easily now and how she wakes up next to me with that soft, contented sigh every morning.

I have learned that I love nothing more than to dote on her. The guys make fun of me for it, but I can tell they’re happy for me.

“Hey,” I call over my shoulder as I pour the batter onto the waffle iron. “You still awake over there?”

She peeks out from under her arm, smiling lazily. “Barely. But I’m staying up for waffles. No way I’m missing those.”

“I’ll have them ready in five. Think you can make it?”

“I’ll try,” she teases, then stretches again, rolling onto her side to watch me. She hugs a pillow to her stomach. “You know… I love our apartment.”

I pause for a moment, meeting her gaze. There’s a seriousness in her voice, a gravity to the words that tugs at something deep inside me.

“I love our apartment,” I agree, turning back to the waffles. “I think we’ve got the best apartment on the planet.”

She’s quiet. Then I hear her get up from the couch and pad over to me. Her arms wrap around my waist from behind, and she rests her cheek against my back.

“I love you,” she says.

I close my eyes, letting the warmth of her confession sink in. It’s not the first time she’s said it—she says it all the time—but every time feels like the first. Every time, it hits me like a wave, washing over me with a force I’m still not used to.

“I love you too,” I say, turning in her arms to face her. I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb over her skin. “More than anything.”

She smiles up at me, and the world feels perfect. Just the two of us, standing here in our tiny kitchen, wrapped up in this strange, beautiful life we’re just getting started building.

The waffle iron beeps, breaking the scene.

I laugh and turn back to the counter, carefully lifting the golden waffle onto a plate. Keira snatches a quarter, blowing on it and then popping it into her mouth before I can even set the plate down.

“Hey!” I protest, but she just grins at me, already reaching for another piece.

“Perfect as always,” she says through a mouthful of waffles.

I shake my head. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” she teases. She leans up to kiss my cheek. “But you love me anyway.”

“Yeah,” I say, pulling her close again. “I do.”

That same night, we make love like it’s the first time all over again.

We’ve already decided that if kids ever do happen, it won’t be for some time—finding each other again felt like a new lease on life for both of us, and we want to make the most of that before complicating our quiet, two-party peace. So, when we lie down together in the bed we chose, Keira spread out under me and moaning; I kiss her neck with the promise that there’s no force on earth that could keep her from being all the family I need. No matter what happens.

She guides me inside her with one hand, holding my cheek with the other. I feel her bite my lip hard as she groans with pleasure, overwhelmed.

“Ado,” she gasps. Her back arches high. “Ado, yes, yes…”

I brace her hips with my hands and watch her come apart to pieces. I mark her neck, suck bruises into her chest—I touch her until she’s shaking.

In the slim, toned curves of her body, there are all the scars and insecurities of a life lived. Every day, a small part of me regrets that she lived so much of that life without me.

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