I chuckled. “Lucas likes his comforts, and Callen believes in good morale. Happy team, effective team, or something like that.” Which was all bullshit. The truth was that after a major criminal takedown we were involved in a couple of years back, a whole lot of shit happened, and damage had been done. Our budget since then had been super healthy.

  Waru’s lips twitched, a spark of levity in his expression. “Still feels weird.”

  Before I could answer, the sound of the entryway door cycling through the locks preceded Michaels’s arrival. He strode in with his usual casual confidence, a grin plastered on his face as he caught sight of us.

  “Chris,” Michaels greeted, giving me a firm handshake before pulling me into a brief hug. His tone was all professional, but his smile turned downright mischievous as he turned to Waru.

  “And you must be Waru.” Michaels extended his hand. “Michaels. It’s nice to meet you properly. We didn’t really have time for introductions earlier.”

  Waru hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking Michaels’s hand.

  “Likewise,” Waru said, though his eyes darted nervously towards me.

  Michaels’s grin widened. “Don’t worry. We’re just going to get you checked out real quick. Standard protocol.” He gestured towards the room off to the side of the pantry.

  Waru glanced at me again, clearly searching for reassurance. “I’ll be right here,” I said, giving him a slight nod. “You’re in good hands.”

  Michaels clapped him on the shoulder lightly, guiding him towards the medical room.

  Once they disappeared through the door, I exhaled and headed towards the back. The hallway led to the more secure parts of the safe house. Three bedrooms, each behind reinforced doors with their own keypads, lined one side. On the other were doors leading to the holding cells and the interview room.

  Lucas was waiting for me near the farthest door.

  The vampire looked as unflappable as ever, his sharp features softened slightly by the calm confidence he radiated. A faint smirk curved his lips as he spotted me.

  “Chris,” he greeted, his voice smooth.

  “Boss man.” I returned the nod before stepping closer, sure in his head he was rolling his eyes at me. He wasn’t a fan of being called boss man.

  “How’s our guest?”

  “Shaken but holding up,” I said. “Michaels is with him now, running through the protocol.”

  Lucas nodded, then gestured for me to follow him into the back office. Once the door clicked shut behind us, he leaned against the desk.

  “Updates?” I asked.

  “Jenna will be transferred after her interview,” Lucas said. “Another unit is handling her and her sister. Brax is… predictably pathetic. He’s giving us enough, but it’s clear he was a puppet, not a player. And as for the tiger….” He grimaced. “Annoying as hell, but reluctantly cooperative.”

  I snorted. “No surprise there.”

  Lucas tilted his head, studying me. “This case isn’t going to be ours for much longer. Callen’s on his way, and he’s made it clear this is being shifted to another team.”

  Frustration curled in my gut, but I kept my face neutral. “Figures. We were dragged into this mess, and now they’re pulling us out.”

  Lucas’s smirk returned. “Bright side? A few days off.”

  I grunted in response, though the thought of some downtime wasn’t unappealing.

  “Anything else I need to know?” I asked.

  “Not for now.” Lucas straightened. “Focus on getting Waru through this.”

  I nodded, the weight of the case fading slightly as I left the office.

  Waru’s well-being was my priority now.

  It took four hours before I could get Waru out of there and home safely. Since eating and his interview, he was at the point of crashing. His eyes were heavy, almost glazed and unfocussed. While the calories had picked him up a little, what energy he’d stored was almost gone.

  He didn’t even put up a fight about me driving him home in his car.

  I stared at him for a moment, taking in the wide set of his nose, the gentle slope of his cheekbones, and the way his dark lashes fanned against his skin. His lips were slightly parted, and the soft rise and fall of his chest was a soothing rhythm. Even with the tension of the day weighing him down, there was an innocence in his expression, as though sleep had granted him a brief escape from reality.

  The urge to let him rest battled with the knowledge that he’d be more comfortable inside.

  “Waru,” I said softly, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder.

  He stirred, scrunching his nose before his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he blinked at me in confusion, his gaze struggling to focus.

  “You’re home,” I murmured, smiling despite myself.

  “Oh.” His voice was groggy, and he rubbed at his face before yawning. “Right. Home.”

  I opened the car door and walked around to his side, pulling his door open. Waru fumbled with the seatbelt for a second before I reached in to help him. He blinked up at me, still a little dazed, and let out a quiet laugh. “Guess I’m out of it, huh?”

  “Come on, sleepyhead,” I teased, offering my hand to help him out.

  Waru’s house was small and modest, but there was a warmth to it that suited him. I led him to the door, and when we stepped inside, I hesitated. His nerves were palpable, his steps slowing as the reality of the day seemed to catch up with him.

  “You okay?” I asked softly.

  He looked at me, his eyes shadowed with worry. “I… I don’t know. It’s just… a lot.”

  “I can arrange security,” I offered. “They can sit outside, keep an eye on the place.”

  Waru hesitated, his brow furrowing. “It all happened at the restaurant, though,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “What about my staff? My restaurant?”

  “They’re fine,” I assured him. “The SICB secured the place and checked on everyone. Your staff is safe, and the restaurant is locked up tight.”

  The tension visibly drained from his shoulders, and he sagged against me, his forehead pressing into my chest. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. His warmth seeped into me, and I felt his breath hitch against my shirt.

  “You need to sleep,” I murmured.

  He nodded against me, his voice muffled. “Yeah. I do.” He pulled back just enough to look up at me, his eyes vulnerable but steady. “Stay?”

  I hesitated. “Waru….”

  “Not like that,” he added quickly, a faint flush creeping into his cheeks. “I just… I don’t want to be alone.”

  After a beat, I nodded. “Okay. But I’ll take the couch.”

  His frown deepened, and he shook his head. “No. You’ll take the bed.”

  “Waru—”

  He grabbed my hand and tugged me towards what I assumed was his room with surprising determination. “The bed,” he repeated firmly, leaving no chance for argument. Not that I wanted to.

  In his bedroom, he didn’t waste time, stripping down to his boxers before turning to me with expectant eyes. “You too.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re bossy when you’re tired.”

  He raised an eyebrow, and I relented, tugging off my shirt and jeans before climbing into the bed.

  Waru didn’t hesitate, curling up against me like a koala. He was all warmth, his head resting on my chest and one arm slung across my torso.

  “Goodnight, Chris,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

  “Goodnight, Waru,” I whispered.

  In less than ten seconds, he was asleep, his soft breathing a balm to the chaos of the day.

  6

  WARU

  Hair tickled my nose. I moved my face left to right, trying to scratch and stop the tickle. Warm skin, sweet-smelling sweat… lion. Chris.

  Stilling, I tuned into his heartbeat, right next to where my face was pressed against his barrel chest. A steady thump didn’t clue me into whether he was awake or not, so I focussed on his breathing.

  One exhale. Two.

  “I can hear you thinking.” The deep rumble of his voice wrapped around me. Goose bumps sprang to life, covering my arms quicker than I could fully appreciate his scent or the position I’d woken in.

  As I debated whether to move or not, Chris’s strong, bare arms enveloped me. My breath caught before I melted against him, happy for him to make the decision for the two of us.

  “Have you been awake long?” I asked, my voice gravelly and rough with sleep. From the faint light spilling into my bedroom, dawn had not long broken, maybe for an hour or so from the brightness of the room.

  “Not really. Maybe fifteen minutes or so.”

  I nodded against his chest, enjoying how his hair rubbed my cheek. It had been a long time since I’d shared a bed with anyone. Since opening Kurranba seven years ago, life had been all work and fairly limited play. Sure, in the last couple of years I’d made a greater effort to find balance by staying closed on Mondays and hiring a manager who I still hadn’t allowed to take the reins, but balance still felt out of reach.

  Maybe if I had someone who encouraged me to take time out and reminded me the world existed away from the restaurant, that would be all the push I’d need. Maybe.

  “You’re not at work today, right?”

  “No,” I answered, finally building the courage to angle my head a little to peer up at him, albeit awkwardly. “Do you need to get going?” In my exhausted state yesterday, I thought he mentioned having a couple days off, but I couldn’t be certain. The past week had been stressful. The past twelve hours had been… hell, they’d been tense as fuck and dove right into being traumatic.

  He shook his head, his lips pressing against my forehead before I could process. My brows shot high, but if Chris thought his kissing me was odd, then he didn’t show it. Instead, a slow smile formed as he angled to see me better. “I’m all yours for the day if you don’t have plans and want me to stay.”

  I blinked up at him, caught between my usual composure and the way my body buzzed with awareness. Chris’s smile was lazy, content, and devastatingly sexy. I was pretty sure I looked like I’d just fallen out of a gum tree.

  “I, uh…,” I stammered, heat creeping into my cheeks. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

  His arms tightened around me slightly, and the motion pressed me closer to the hard planes of his chest. I became acutely aware of his warmth, the solidness of his body, and the way his scent—earthy, with a faint hint of spice—wrapped around me like a blanket.

  Then I realised exactly how draped over him I was. My legs tangled with his, my torso flush against his, and, fuck, my morning wood pressed uncomfortably close to his thigh.

  Awareness shot through me, and before I could control it, my cock swelled further, throbbing against the hard muscle of his leg. My breath caught. I tried to shift away subtly, but the motion only made things worse.

  Chris’s eyes dropped, his gaze drifting down my body. Heat flared in his golden eyes, slow and intense. He didn’t say a word for a long moment, just looked, and my heart threatened to burst out of my chest.

  “Chris, I—” I started, scrambling for an apology.

  “Give me your hand,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with a rough command that sent a shiver down my spine.

  I froze, staring at him. The air between us was thick, tension bubbling just under the surface, ready to snap. Slowly, I lifted my hand and placed it in his.

  His fingers curled around mine, warm and sure, and he guided me downwards, under the sheet. He moved slowly, giving me plenty of time to pull back if I wanted to. I didn’t.

  When my palm brushed against his cock, thick and hot, I swallowed hard. My brain short-circuited, and all I could do was hold him, feel the solid weight of him against my hand.

  “Chris,” I whispered, his name a mix of reverence and desperation.

  He didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered, stole my breath.

  I yanked the sheet back, exposing him fully, and tugged his boxers down. His cock sprang free, impressive and perfect. I wasn’t one to focus on size, but Chris was all thick length and weight, and my mouth watered at the sight.

  “Off,” he said, his voice rough with desire, and his gaze flicked to my boxers.

  I didn’t hesitate, pushing them down and kicking them off. The way he groaned, low and appreciative, sent a thrill through me.

  Before I could act on the desperate urge to take him in my mouth, he grabbed me, his hand firm on the back of my neck, and pulled me into a kiss. His lips were soft but demanding, and his tongue teased mine until I was dizzy.

  When he broke the kiss, I barely had time to catch my breath before he shifted me effortlessly, his strength undeniable. He spun me around, pulling me into a 69 position.

  I didn’t have time to be self-conscious before his mouth was on me, hot and wet and sending jolts of pleasure through my body.

  “Oh, fuck,” I gasped, my hands gripping his hips for balance.

  I returned the favour, taking him into my mouth as best as I could. He groaned around me, the vibrations pushing me closer to the edge.

  Tentatively, I let one hand drift lower, brushing against the tight ring of muscle at his entrance. I hesitated, unsure, but when he shifted his hips, opening for me, I pressed a spit-slick finger inside.

  He moaned, the sound wrecked and beautiful, and I couldn’t get enough… of him, his arse, this moment. I sucked hard as I drove one, then two fingers inside his channel. He gripped my fingers. Fuck, with Chris around my cock, I’d be in heaven given half the chance.

  He gripped my hips, yanking me deeper and so far into his throat, I saw stars. I shuddered, my body trembling while I tried to focus enough to make him come undone. Sucking my cheeks in, I went for the kill shot. I pulled him into my mouth, held my breath, and swallowed around his length.

  Chris tensed, gripping me so hard and perfectly, I’d wear his bruises.

  When he came, spilling hot and thick into my mouth, his body went pliant against mine. Still sucking me down, his movements slow but thorough, he tugged my balls, sending bright relief into my vision as I came long and hard, shooting ribbons of cum down his convulsing throat.

  We collapsed side by side, breathing heavily, our limbs tangled.

  I stared at him, dazed and completely wrecked. “Chris,” I said softly, “I think I need to call my manager.”

  His brow quirked. “Oh?”

  I grinned, brushing a hand over his chest as I turned myself around to be closer to his face. “I was supposed to do a stock take today, but spending the day in bed with you sounds a hell of a lot better.”

  His laugh rumbled through me, low and warm, and I knew I’d made the right choice.

  “So,” Chris began, leaning back in his chair and wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin, “who taught you to cook? What made you fall in love with it?”

  I didn’t answer right away, too caught up in watching him. His plate was nearly clean—a testament to the barramundi I’d pan seared with lemon myrtle butter, served alongside a roasted beet and macadamia salad and a pepperberry-infused damper roll.

  He ate like it was the first time he’d tasted food, his every movement deliberate. The way his fork lifted the last flake of fish to his mouth, or how his tongue darted out to catch a stray drop of butter clinging to his bottom lip—it was foreplay on a level I’d never experienced before.

  Chris let out a low groan of satisfaction, his eyes half lidded as he chewed. “You’re gonna ruin me, you know that?”

  Heat spread through me, pooling low in my belly. As much as I wanted to crawl under the table and go for round six—or was it seven?—this moment, us talking and getting to know each other, was just as good. Maybe better.

  “It was my dad,” I finally said, leaning back and resting my elbow on the table. “He was the one who got me into cooking.”

  Chris’s gaze sharpened, curiosity sparking in his warm golden eyes. “Your dad?”

  I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah. He was a big fella—tough as they come—but he had this incredible passion for food. He used to say cooking wasn’t just about feeding people; it was about telling a story, connecting with them.”

  Chris’s lips quirked into a smile, and I could see him picturing it.

  “He loved teaching me how to make the traditional stuff—damper, kangaroo stew, wattleseed pancakes. But he was also a master of fusion. He’d take bush tucker ingredients and mix them with techniques from all over the world. I used to watch him cook, and it was like watching a magician at work. Every meal was an experience, you know?”

  Chris’s smile grew wider. “So you inherited the magic.”

  I snorted, feeling heat creep up my neck. “I don’t know about that, but yeah, I guess he passed it on. When I cook, it’s like I’m carrying a piece of him with me.”

  He reached across the table and placed his large hand over mine, his touch grounding and reassuring. “Your dad sounds like an amazing man.”

  “He was,” I said softly. “And he’d love this.” I gestured between us. “Sharing a meal, getting to know someone over food—that was his thing.”

  Chris’s thumb traced a slow circle over my knuckles, his gaze locked on mine. “Then I owe him one for passing that on to you.”

  My chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his tone. This man, who ate my food like it was his last meal on earth, who held my hand like it was something precious, was undoing me in ways I didn’t even realise were possible.

  “Careful,” I said, my voice a little hoarse. “Keep talking like that, and I might have to cook for you every day.”

  His grin was wicked and utterly irresistible. “Promise?”

  The laugh that bubbled out of me felt lighter than it had in years. Maybe, just maybe, I could get used to this. “We’ll see. At the moment it’s a tentative yes.”

  He quirked his brow at that but didn’t push.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7