Page 100 of They Are Mine

And shit, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

He’s not like me.

He’s solid enough, but not built. He’s got more of a quiet, easy charm, something about him that screams poet, student, maybe even musician.

Not competition.

Not a threat.

But still…

This is fucking weird.

“You must be Orion,” he says, eyeing me, assessing, but not hostile.

I nod once. “Noah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

Silence.

A beat too long.

He clears his throat, stepping back to let me in. Not quite awkward, but not exactly comfortable, either. “Juliet’s in the kitchen,” he says, waving toward the living room. “Come on in. It’s almost ready.”

I step inside.

The house smells amazing. Warm, buttery, rich, something homemade.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but this? This is home.

It fits her.

But the fact that Noah fits in it too?

I don’t know how I feel about that yet.

I follow Noah to the kitchen.

Juliet is there, looking as fucking delicious as whatever she’s cooking smells.

She’s smiling, soft, sweet, completely at ease, like this isn’t weird, like this isn’t completely fucked.

Like this is just another night at home.

She wipes her hands on her apron.

Pink. Edged in a little ribbon.

My mind immediately takes that and runs straight into the fucking gutter, because now I’m picturing her in just that apron, bent over the counter, ass up, begging me to…

Jesus Christ.

I force my gaze back up just as she walks over.

No hesitation.

And then?

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