11
Cameron
Thebutterfliesinmystomach had guzzled an energy drink. I was sure of it.
A choked laugh burst free. “That man has one fine ass.”
Also noteworthy were Shep’s abs, chest, and arms. And, of course, his cock. In my experience, most dicks were weird looking, and some were downright ugly. His was neither of those things. Far from it. With that unhelpful observation, I rubbed my eyes until I saw spots.
He’d been standing so close with only a small cushion concealing him. If I hadn’t forced my hands to stay glued to the counter, they would have ended up on Shep. To push him away? I sure hoped so, because doing anything else was the very definition of stupid. But I’d wanted to.
My head was all over the place. Time to refocus. Shep had been doing everything for me since I’d arrived, and I needed to pull my weight. But it wasn’t only out of obligation. I wanted to do something nice for him. He was breaking down my defenses, one sweet gesture at a time. So how could I repay the person responsible for the fact I was still breathing? By filling his belly with carb-loaded, syrupy goodness.
Could I even remember how to make pancake batter? My brain was as scrambled as yesterday’s eggs. I threw all the ingredients into the bowl and mixed them around. There must be some clever tricks to make them taste amazing, but my mind drew a blank. Who needed an electric beater when you had trembling hands and a whisk?
I worked it out in the end. While cooking the second pancake, Shep returned wearing a snug-fitting black Henley and faded blue jeans. Damn, he looked almost as good with clothes as he did without. The shirt hugged his muscular torso in all the right places. The top two buttons were undone, exposing a hint of the smooth, sculpted chest underneath.
I poured him a coffee as he sat behind the breakfast bar and opened his laptop. We both liked our java the same way—strong and black—except he took no sugar and I loaded mine with two heaped teaspoons. I had to search deep in the pantry to find the container.
The rest of the cupboard’s contents were boring as batshit. It couldn’t be good for someone to be so healthy. And I wasn’t sure what to think about how organized the space was. Tin cans stacked in a row. Pasta, rice, and cereals in labeled airtight containers. Perhaps it was his military experience showing through, or maybe he was raised that way.
I watched for his reaction as he took his first sip of the brew.
“Mmm, it’s good. Thank you.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Shep glanced up from his laptop, lifted a brow, then refocused on the screen. I was a little self-conscious wearing only his boxers and my white tank. I’d ditched the plaid shirt once the fire warmed the room. Still, he’d seen me wearing less when he first brought me here.
Shep looked up again, and this time stared right at my tits. Didn’t even try to hold back his grin. What the hell?
“You got a little something on your… ahh.” He pointed at my chest.
I glanced down. Great. There was pancake batter on my top, clinging to the underside of my breasts. It must have happened when I’d been working the lumps out of the mix.
“Dammit!” I wet the kitchen towel and used it to wipe at the sticky mess. That made him laugh, and I realized what I was doing. Giving my boobs a good rub down while wetting my white top.
I scowled at Shep, who tried in vain to straighten his face.
“Breakfast and a show. It’s my lucky day.” His laughter burst through and he gave up hiding his amusement.
“Jackass!” I stomped across the kitchen and slapped him on the arm with the spatula.
“Ouch!” He grabbed his bicep, feigning injury. “Geez, who says I’m the violent one around here?”
I covered my tits with one arm and pointed the spatula at him with the other. “You better not teach me how to use that pistol of yours, or you’ll regret it.”
“I don’t doubt that.” He shook his head while grinning.
It was the first time I’d seen him laugh with abandon. He looked ten years younger and like a weight had lifted from his shoulders. It made my chest tighten with affection for the big guy.
Flirting with Shep was intoxicating, but I needed to stop reacting to him. We were both feeding off this energy between us, and it was getting out of hand.
I went to the bedroom to change into a shirt of Shep’s, then headed straight to the laundry room and rinsed my tank since it was one of the few things I had here that fit me.
Back in the kitchen, I loaded Shep’s plate with two odd-shaped pancakes that I hoped tasted better than they looked. I set them down next to his laptop with maple syrup, butter, and cutlery. He was absorbed in what he read, and a serious expression lined his face.
“Everything okay?” I asked, resting my hip against the counter opposite him.