Page 27 of A Pack of Honey
"What's upstairs, Sunshine?" Jess asks, leaning over the railing to peer to the next level. All he can see from down here is an ornate white door with sunflowers and bees painted along its edges.
"It's the omega suite," I tell him truthfully, keeping my face as neutral as possible. Everyone turns to look at me, but before anyone can ask, I slip into my room and close the door behind me.
Cole
Lastnightsnapsbackto me the moment I open my eyes. The storm. Sunny, nearly naked and wet. The almost-rut. I groan aloud because—fuck.
The room comes into focus. I'd taken the one next to Sunny's. I was damn surprised when she'd invited us upstairs instead of kicking us out. The room is medium-sized. It has basic white walls, a wrought iron, full bed frame that squeaks when I move, a hardwood dresser, and a half bath attached.
I swing out of bed and pad downstairs. The smell of tea and honey hits me on the bottom steps, and I slow and move down the hall. Soft jazz drifts through the open kitchen door. The sounds and smells of baking and cooking tell me Sunny's making breakfast again.
I lean against the door frame, selfishly wanting a few more moments of her before whatever today brings. Sure, she didn't kick us out last night. That doesn't mean she'll still let us stay.
She's already dressed for today in green overalls over a pink top. The morning light through the kitchen's bay windowcatches her face, and I swear I forget to breathe. Her expression is one of pure contentment unlike any other I've gotten to see thus far. I only ever glimpse this side of her when she's cooking, or when she's walking around her bees.
Sunny halts, and I know she's scented me. She turns, and our eyes lock. I've braced myself for anger, fear, and resentment. I hadn't braced myself for the small, shy smile that graces her lips, and it nearly guts me.
"Hey," she says, her voice smaller and softer than I've ever heard.
"Hey," I offer. It feels like a white flag in a war zone. Or at least a ceasefire on her part.
"Will you take the biscuits to the table?" she asks, holding up a wicker basket with a checkered tea towel on top, trapping the biscuits' heat.
I move forward, crowding in closer than necessary. The basket touches our sternums, but I can't help it. If this isn't what I hope and pray it is, I want to know right damnnow.
My hand engulfs hers as I take the basket, but she doesn't pull away. Her eyes are wide as she gazes up at me. Her perfume engulfs us, and my hand flexes over hers automatically. Fuck, if that doesn't smell like heaven, I don't know what does. I should let it be, walk to the table, and put down the biscuits. But I've always been one to push boundaries—push people, push everything.
So, I do one of the many things I've wanted to do since I met Sunny. I reach up and tuck a strand of that beautiful, golden blond hair behind her ear. My breath lodges somewhere in my chest when she turns her face into my palm and nuzzles, scent marking me. My hand sweeps back from her cheek and under her hair. My long fingers wrap around her delicate neck from the back so that my thumb rests on her rapidly fluttering pulse.
She sways, and I lean down, resting my forehead on hers and gripping her nape a little firmer to ground her to me. Her eyes look like little lakes of tranquil water—glassy, holding back tears.
"I'm sorry," I repeat. I've said it before, but I'll apologize forever if it means taking any part of the hurt that can be claimed as belonging to me from her. I know it's not all me. It's this vandalism, the business, her grandmother's illness, and why she's the only person running what should be a family business. But I'll regret any piece of sadness that belongs to me so long as it exists.
She nods.
"I'm going to fix it. Daddy’s going to fix it, okay?" It's something I want to see if Sunny's interested in. She's been so strong. She needs someone to take the weight from her, and I damn well want to be that person. Light dom/sub play has been something I've enjoyed in the past with the right partner, and Sunny seems like someone who needs that. I'm elated when she leans further into me instead of pulling back.
"Okay," she whispers. And my heart—that cold black thing I thought had been stomped to death from years of cynicism, brutal reality, and regret—kicks to life in my chest. And it aches for this woman.
I want to ask a million questions about her, us, and this mess with the farm. But even I know I've pressed enough for one morning. I kiss her forehead and pull away with the basket. She perfumes, and I smirk. Although that smirk is quickly wiped off my face when I see we're not alone.
Hunt, Jess, and Luca made it downstairs somewhere in the middle of Sunny and my interaction. And they're all smirking at us like wolves. I growl at them, and they quickly look away and move into the room, grabbing finished dishes from the counter and Sunny, who’s turned an adorable shade of pink.
We all sit down to breakfast.
Sunny
Breakfastisquiet.Everyonekeeps shooting me furtive glances, and it's grating on me.
After the third glance from Jess, who is by far the most obvious, I break.
"What?" I ask. My voice definitely has an edge. A temper. That's what my grandma always said I had.
"Sooo… courting now?" Jess asks. Always so direct.
I glance at Cole because, apparently, that's my default now. He nods, clear approval in his eyes. Ever since the "Daddy" incident, as I'm terming it in my head, I feel more inclined than I ever have with anyone to follow his lead. That submission touched something deep in me that I've never examined before. I'm not sure I can look at it now, but I need it. I understand that, at least. I'm not new to that world, I've just never thoroughly explored it outside of a screen or books. Part of me is excited to explore it with Cole, and part is very intimidated.
"It looks like it," I admit. I'm so stubborn that even when I change my mind, it feels somewhat like a defeat until Cole'shand brushes over my knee under the table in silent approval. Something deep in my core melts and turns to slick between my thighs.
