Every inch of her.

He did things to her...

She began to look in the fridge for eggs and bacon and found them, then found some leftover French bread, which she sliced up to make toast.

The eggs this morning, she decided, would be over medium and on top of the toast. Maybe she would even make sandwiches. That might be nice. She wanted to watch him eat.

Wanted to watch his mouth close around a sandwich.

She was going crazy.

Really, the man was her friend. She should have a little bit of...something. Self-control. She didn’t have any. She had nothing but a kind of intense, satisfied hum that, all things considered, she might take in lieu of self-respect.

She hummed to herself as she cooked, and then she heard footsteps behind her. She turned and saw Ryder standing in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, slung low on his lean hips. His hair was disheveled, his whiskers looking deliciously feral and scratchy.

She liked Ryder feral, she realized. Perhaps because she had spent most of her life as a somewhat feral creature and had felt like she had been the odd one in their midst. But uncovering those pieces of him, that bit of uncivilized that was apparently a lot closer to the surface than he pretended, was...exhilarating. Somehow, that change in him was liberating for her, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

On why it made her feel a whole lot more like she fit. In this house. In her own skin. Against his skin.

“Good morning,” he said.

“And a very good morning to you,” she responded.

She turned back to the pan and flipped perfect eggs onto the toast that was already laid out on the plate.

And then one big strong arm wrapped around her and pulled her against his hard body. She shivered, and he angled so that he could kiss her neck.

“Good morning,” he said again.

His voice rumbled in his chest, the feeling so intimate between them.

Everything inside her fluttered. Between her legs, and her stomach. Her heart. All of it.

She had never fluttered in her life. She had just assumed that she was the kind of person who didn’t. She had thought that maybe her father had broken something fundamental inside her with his fists. The ability to be excited about people. About the possibility that could exist between her and someone else.

That was the problem. Fundamentally, romance had never really excited her that much because she felt like she had seen too much of the negative outcome. The potential for disaster.

She had never really engaged in romance.

She had all these words for what was simply a desperate attempt to deal with the loneliness inside her heart.

Yes, she had connections with Ryder and his family. Had all kinds of different emotional needs met through them. But it wasn’t being held by someone. And so she had gone out and had physical relationships, as well. Had played at light romantic connections that she knew weren’t going anywhere so that she could fill the different gaps in her life, in her soul, without anything becoming all-consuming.