Wren was quiet as she worked; the meat crackled and spat as she stirred it around the pan. She didn’t turn around and I didn’t make myself known, not yet. She seemed tense. Her movements were jerky and rigid as she placed the pasta in the pot and seasoned the beef.
Was she still upset about our vandalized garage door? Or was she sore from her attempt at cliff jumping?
My fingers curled into fists on the granite countertops. I cringed at the memory of when she’d tumbled from the high ledge on the rock wall. Pain seared in my chest at the thought of her being injured, or worse. I hadn’t felt that way about a person who wasn’t my family since…since ever. The very thought of losing her had almost crippled me. And the thing was, I didn’t even know her.
I gritted my teeth. No, that wasn’t true. I knew Wren. I hadn’t been able to crack her outer layer of protection and learn the things she kept deep inside, but I knew her. She was kind, and she was compassionate, and she was…light.
Ty had been right. She did light me up. She made everything around her brighter. She made me see things in ways I never had and appreciate things I hadn’t in a very long time.
A jolt shot straight through my chest as something important occurred to me. Yes, Wren was a wild ray of sunshine that I could never control or keep out of danger. She might be reckless, but she was full of life and that was something I’d been missing.
Life.
For a very long time, even when my parents were alive, I let life pass me by. I went with the ebb and flow of it, but never taking it in both hands and embracing all it had to offer. I was always worried about something: about Ty or my career or my parents’ failing health. There have been few times when I’ve felt completely at peace.
And standing right here in this kitchen, watching Wren cook damn spaghetti, was one of them.
I pushed off the counter, standing straight, my body rigid.
Wren strained the noodles in the sink and turned off the burner cooking the meat she had added sauce to. As a cloud of steam erupted from the hot pasta, she turned, freezing when she saw me. Her eyes widened and her forehead crinkled in confusion. She pulled out her earbuds, opening her mouth to speak, but I shook my head. I didn’t want her to say anything. I had just grabbed hold of life—if only for this one moment—and I couldn’t let anything distract me.
I moved swiftly, my legs taking me to her as fast as they could. I rounded the island and before she could say one word, I took her face in my hands and pressed my lips to hers. She stiffened at first, but then her body melted against mine. I felt her everywhere. She was soft and delicate, and her mouth moved over mine in a slow, aching dance. She smelled sweet and fresh like water and sunshine. Electricity crackled over my skin, blood pulsing through my veins.
My teeth caught her lower lip, and I sucked gently. Her taste was more delectable than I’d imagined. The sounds my actions elicited from her almost set my core aflame, making my need for her more intense. My hands traveled down to her hips, gripping them tightly. She knew exactly what I wanted because she pushed up on her toes, and I lifted her enough for her to wrap her legs around my waist.
I groaned in the back of my throat as the kiss turned desperate, our lips hungry and tongues exploring. I set her on the counter, holding her as close as possible. I loved the feel of her body pressed against mine. Her heat burned my skin; her softness made me ache.
God, she tasted like heaven. I couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get close enough to satisfy this suddenly ravenous need for her. My hands tangled in her hair, knocking her bun loose, sending a cascade of blonde curls falling around her face. I kissed my way down her throat, to the salty skin on her neck. My heart pounded in my ears as my hands traveled down her velvet skin, to her thin, narrow shoulders and the straps of her tank top.
She made a sweet noise that gave me the confidence to ease those straps off her shoulders. Her wild, labored breaths echoed in my ear as her legs tightened around my hips. I continued to push the straps of her top down at a tortured, slow pace, giving her plenty of time to stop me if she wanted.
She never did.
The fabric of her top fell just a little, exposing the top swells of her breasts, and I forgot how to breathe as I gazed at her beauty.
That’s when I saw it.
I pulled back slightly, revealing her almost-bare chest and the red, half-healed bite mark positioned almost directly over her heart.
It felt like the floor had dropped out from under me as I stared at the mark.
“Who the hell did that to you, Wren?”