Page 21 of Fury
"Morning," I reply, hyperaware of every point where our bodies connect. "You're kind of crushing me."
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. "You saying I'm heavy?"
"I'm saying you're practically on top of me."
"You complaining?" His eyes dance with mischief as he shifts, deliberately pressing more of his weight against me.
I laugh, pushing ineffectually at his shoulder. "Maybe I would be if I could breathe properly."
With obvious reluctance, he rolls away, though his arm remains draped across my waist. "Better?"
"Marginally." I stretch, enjoying the play of emotions across his face as he watches the movement. "What time is it?"
He glances at the clock on the nightstand. "Just after eight. How'd you sleep?"
"Better than I have in weeks," I admit. "No nightmares."
"Good." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering on my cheek. "Hungry?"
My stomach answers with a growl that makes us both laugh. "Apparently."
"Stay here," he presses a quick kiss to my forehead before sliding out of bed. I try not to stare at his bare chest and the way his sweatpants hang low on his hips, but I'm only human.
"Where are you going?" I ask, already missing his warmth.
He pauses at the door, looking back with a smile that makes my heart skip a beat. "To make you breakfast. Don't move."
Before I can protest, he's gone, his footsteps receding down the hallway. I sink back against the pillows, a smile spreading across my face. Who would have thought Greyson Reed, president of the Devil Souls MC, would be the type to make breakfast in bed?
I use his absence to slip into the master bathroom, marveling at the luxury of the space, with its glass-enclosed shower enclosure big enough for two, a deep soaking tub, and double sinks set in dark granite. I find an unused toothbrush in a drawer and take a quick shower, washing away the lingering anxiety of the previous day.
When I emerge wrapped in one of his plush towels, I find a t-shirt laid out on the bed that's clearly his, soft from wear and smelling faintly of his cologne. I slip it on, the hem falling to mid-thigh, before padding barefoot downstairs.
The scent of coffee and bacon guides me to the kitchen, where I pause in the doorway, taking in the sight before me. Greyson stands at the stove, still shirtless, flipping pancakes with practiced ease. Morning sunlight streams through the windows, highlighting the intricate tattoos that cover his back and shoulders. The Devil Souls insignia is prominent between his shoulder blades, surrounded by other symbols whose meanings I can only guess at.
"I thought I told you to stay in bed," he says without turning around, somehow sensing my presence.
"I got lonely," I reply, moving into the kitchen. "And curious. The fearsome MC president makes pancakes?"
He glances over his shoulder, his eyes darkening as they take in my appearance in his shirt. "The fearsome MC president makes excellent pancakes, thank you very much. Family recipe."
I perch on a stool at the island, watching him work. There's something intensely intimate about this moment more so, somehow, than sharing a bed. This is domestic, ordinary in a way that makes my chest ache with longing.
"Coffee's ready." He nods toward the pot. "Mugs in the cabinet above."
I help myself, savoring the rich aroma before taking a sip. "Perfect," I murmur, earning a pleased smile from him.
"Hope you like blueberry pancakes." He slides a golden stack onto a plate. "And extra crispy bacon."
"How did you know that's exactly how I like it?"
He sets the plate in front of me with a wink. "I pay attention."
For the next few minutes, we eat in comfortable silence, the only sounds the clinking of silverware and the occasional appreciative hum from me. The pancakes are indeed excellent—fluffy inside, crispy at the edges, studded with plump blueberries.
"So," I say between bites, "is this how you treat all the women you bring home? Breakfast in bed, or almost in bed?"
Something flashes in his eyes, possessiveness, maybe, or jealousy. "There haven't been women here, Livie.”
