Page 100 of Wings
"The food or me?"
"Yes."
His laugh vibrated through both of us. "Grab glasses? This is almost ready."
But I didn't move yet, just pressed closer, feeling the heat of him through my scrubs. This was my favorite part of coming home—not the sex (though that was spectacular), but this. The way we fit together in mundane moments. How his hand stayed possessive on my hip while stirring sauce. How I could feel his breathing change when I nipped at his shoulder.
"Glasses," he reminded me, but his thumb was stroking circles that made thinking difficult.
"Bossy Daddy," I pulled away, already missing the contact.
"You love it."
God help me, I did.
I pulled down two glasses, filled them with water from the filter he'd installed my second week here. "Making sure his girl stayed hydrated" he'd said, like it wasn't the most caring thing anyone had done for me in years.
"So," I said, handing him his glass, "you'll never guess what happened during my last appointment."
He took a sip, eyes tracking me over the rim. "Tell me."
"Seven-year-old, needed a tetanus shot after stepping on a nail." I hoisted myself onto the counter, legs swinging. "Kid pulls out a Twix from his pocket—the fun size ones—and dead serious says, 'This could be yours if you forget about the shot.'"
Gabe's grin transformed his face. "A businessman in the making."
"Right? I told him I respected the hustle but needles don't negotiate." I snagged a piece of garlic bread from the cutting board, dodging his half-hearted swat. "He took it like a champ though. Even let me put a butterfly bandaid on after."
"Your butterflies are conquering the world." He moved between my knees, natural as breathing. "How's Nina?"
"She's good. Excited about the mobile unit." I played with the dish towel on his shoulder, needing to touch. "We finalized the Friday routes today. Starting with the warehouse district."
His hand found my thigh, steady and warm. "That's Serpent territory."
"Was," I corrected. "Thor says they've pulled back since—" Since the warehouse job. Since Alex disappeared. Since the power balance shifted in ways that made certain neighborhoods safer. "He said the Kings have people watching now. Making sure families don't get caught in the crossfire."
"We do." He turned back to the stove, but kept one hand on me. Always touching now, like he needed the reminder I was real. "That's actually what I was working on today. Prospect training, but different from the usual."
I made an encouraging sound, content to watch him work. The way his hands moved with careful confidence, adding a pinch of red pepper, tasting, adjusting. He'd approach my body the same way later—methodical, attentive, devastating.
"Thor's got ideas about community protection. Not just muscle and territory, but actual investment." He plated the pasta with restaurant precision. "Suicide prevention networks for vets. Narcan distribution that doesn't ask questions. Making connections with people like you, who can help without judgment."
"People like me?" I accepted my plate, inhaling garlic and tomato and possibility.
"People who see past the patches to the purpose." He clinked his water glass against mine. "We're making good trouble, Ki."
The nickname still sent warmth through my chest. Not baby girl—that was for different moments. Ki was partnership, equality, two people building something together.
"So are we," I said softly.
We ate standing up, him leaning against the stove, me still perched on the counter. Our kitchen wasn't big enough for a proper table, but we'd made it work. Made everything work through stubbornness and trust and the kind of love that surprised us both with its simplicity.
"How's your pain today?" I asked, noticing the way he shifted weight off his left side.
"Fine."
"Liar." But I said it with affection. "I have that CBD cream if—"
"I'm fine, Ki." He set his empty plate in the sink, then crowded back between my legs. "Got better medicine in mind anyway."
