A part of me wondered if this was all just some dream. That maybe I was in a coma after wiping out on my bike earlier. My mom was probably standing over my hospital bed. Tubes would be coming from various parts of my body, while wires connected to machines told her I was still alive. No doubt she would have that stoic, emotionless look on her face so she could stay strong for my dad. While deep inside, she would be an emotional wreck because her baby boy was clinging to life by a thread.
But the pain along the entire right side of my body told me that this wasn’t a dream and that I was very much awake. I hadn’t examined the damage yet, but I could feel the road rash on my leg and side. Nothing seemed broken, but my ribs were no doubt bruised all to hell, and my knee was throbbing.
Yet while Delaney had been right in front of me, I hadn’t felt so much as a twinge of discomfort. My focus had been solely on taking care of her, making sure that she was unhurt, that she wasn’t frightened of me.
From the looks of her, I could tell she’d been living on the streets for a while. The sheer terror on her face when I first met her pretty brown gaze told me she was running from something—or someone.
She was dirty, hungry, and all alone.
But I would make sure she didn’t have to worry about anything ever again.
The lasagna finished heating, and I replaced it with the pot roast. With the way her eyes had lingered on both of their containers, I knew she would enjoy those the most. I reheated both of them first so they would be ready and waiting for her once she was finished showering.
Closing the microwave door, I punched in the time Mom had said to set it for and then rubbed my hand over my chest again. I felt a pressure that had been there since I first set eyes on Delaney earlier. It wasn’t painful, or even uncomfortable, but the feeling was something I was unused to. When she was close enough that I could touch her, the pressure eased somewhat, but when I didn’t have my eyes on her, it intensified.
I wasn’t sure if I should be worried about it. Mom would be able to tell me if I should go to the ER or not, get Doc to check me over. But I didn’t want her to know I’d wiped out on my way home.
And for the moment, I didn’t want her to know about Delaney. Selfishly, I wanted to keep her all to myself for a while. Get her to trust me. Let me take care of her.
That feeling was somewhat alien as well. Other than a few select people, I’d never wanted to take care of anyone besides myself. I’d only known Delaney for less than an hour, and she was already twisting me inside out.
By the time the microwave alerted me that the last container was reheated, I’d plated everything else, as well as pulled out the cake Aunt Flick had made for me and dropped off the day before. It was my favorite—lemon, with a lemon custard in the middle and a lemon cream cheese frosting. Between her and Mom, I never had to worry about cooking for myself. But if I had any hope of keeping Delaney around, I needed to figure out how to feed her without either of them suspecting I had a houseguest.
At least for the moment.
From the bathroom, I heard the water turn off and bit back a groan as I pictured my little treasure rubbing my towel over her sweet little body. She would smell like me since I didn’t have any girlie shampoo or body wash. That thought had my cock turning to steel in my jeans, and I quickly adjusted myself.
I’d left her some sweats and a T-shirt to change into. Tomorrow after work, I planned on getting her some new clothes and personal items. But I liked her being in my clothes a hell of a lot, so I wasn’t in a hurry.
Grabbing us bottles of water, I set the drinks by our plates and waited for Delaney to join me. When she walked out of the bathroom with her long, damp hair falling over her shoulders and my clothes hanging off her, I nearly swallowed my tongue.
Covered in dirt and grime, the girl had been so hauntingly beautiful I was sure she was an angel sent from above to take me to heaven. Freshly showered, her brown eyes no longer filled with fear, she stole the air from my lungs. Her skin had a natural sun-kissed tone to it, her dark hair dropping almost to her waist. She had the prettiest little nose that slightly turned up at the end, and her lips…
Fuck, those lips.
I wanted to taste them, see them wrapped around my cock…
No, I mentally snarled at myself. I was not going to treat my sweet little treasure like one of the sheep at the clubhouse. She was too precious. I had to take my time and earn her trust…and hopefully more.
Shyly, she stood in the kitchen doorway, her cheeks a rosy pink from the heat of the shower. I forced down the urge to grab her and fuck her against the nearest wall. Giving her a smile I hoped set her at ease, I motioned for her to join me at the island.
“Let’s eat, little one,” I said aloud as I signed to her. I’d never been so happy that Mom had taught me ASL. I’d taken it as my required language class in both middle and high school too. My dyslexia had put me off trying to learn Spanish or French, and American Sign Language was something Mom had pushed to be taught in our local school system.
Delaney sat down beside me and slowly picked up her fork. Her movements were measured, as if she were forcing herself to hold back and not devour the food set before her, like she was starving. The thought of her hungry made my hands clench at my sides. Growing up, I had never had a lack of food in my life, but I knew that wasn’t the case for other kids. Knowing my little treasure had gone without caused me physical pain.
The pressure on my chest doubled until I lifted my hand and carefully pushed her hair back from her face so I could see her better. “There’s plenty more where this came from. Eat whatever you want.”
She licked her lips as she watched my hands, and then she nodded. She took a small bite of the pot roast first. As her lips wrapped around her fork, her eyes closed and a moan slipped from her. The sound was so innocent, yet so fucking erotic, I had to grip the side of the island to keep from reaching for her.
Her eyes snapped open, and she blushed, mouthing, “Sorry,” before taking another bite, this time with some of the baby potatoes and carrots.
Groaning, I turned my attention to my own plate. I’d gone for the meatloaf, leaving the chili in case Delaney was still hungry after she finished her lasagna and pot roast. Given how tiny she was, I wanted to feed her until she begged me to stop…
And then I wanted to feast on her.
Holding back yet another groan, I ate in silence for a while, watching her out of the corner of my eye. Each bite she took was delicate, almost artful. I enjoyed watching her more than I did eating—and considering Mom’s meatloaf was one of my favorite things in the world, that was saying a hell of a lot.
After only a few minutes, she set down her fork and then wrapped her arms around herself, a pitiful sound leaving her throat. Her face turned red when she noticed me watching her with concern, and her chin began to tremble again.
Instead of asking her what was wrong, I uncapped her bottle of water and offered it to her. Hand trembling, she took it from me and sipped from it. After a while, she began to relax again, and I figured her stomach pains had passed. Without looking at me, she picked up her fork and thankfully began to eat once again.
When her gaze fell on my plate, I lifted a bite of the meatloaf and mashed potatoes to her lips. Without hesitation, she opened her mouth and accepted the bite. I was rewarded with that little pleased moan, and I couldn’t help grinning.