I knew he started working out a lot again over the winter, but I had no idea how big and muscular his entire body had become. Or maybe he was always like this? The ink I noticed earlier and tried not to look at spans across his defined abs – words in gothic script that I can’t read from where I’m still frozen, and a portrait of a female warrior takes up most of his torso and rib cage. A black raven covers one of his pecs, its wings seeming to flutter with his breathing.

Inching closer to the bed, I notice his hair is untied and damp, falling across half his face. I desperately want to reach out and push it away because he hates his hair in his face, but a little voice inside me says touching him right now, while he’s lying in bed nearly naked, would be crossing a line.

Another new line has mysteriously popped up. I’ve touched Tor a million times. But today, now, like this…it feels wrong because something about it also feels so right, so needed, so demanded, so naturally instinctive that it shakes me right down to my toes. And that can only mean something really, really good, or really, really bad.

Swallowing, I say his name softly. “Tor?”

He doesn’t move or wake.

The man sleeps like the dead.

I gently nudge his shoulder, warm and hard under my hand. “Tor? Wake up.”

His eyes open and slowly focus on me, and goosebumps sprinkle across my flesh when he smiles sleepily at me. It feels faintly sensual, knowing I am the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.

“I’m sorry…I knocked but it didn’t wake you,” I stammer, feeling even more exposed than he is. Can he tell I was looking at him while he was sleeping?

He sits up and stretches his arms over his head, flexing his fingers, and my stomach does the flippies again at the sight of his chiseled chest and abs straining as he arches his back.

“It’s okay,” he says groggily. “Fuck. Something smells great.”

“Dinner is ready. If you’re hungry?”

“You kidding? I’m starved.”

“Well, get up, sleepyhead. I’ll go set the table.”

I make a quick exit out of his room and he joins me in the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed and much more awake, and throws a pair of purple sweat pants at me.

“What’s this for?” I ask.

“To wear when we check the traps after dinner. I don’t want you to wear shorts walking in the woods, you might get a tick on you.”

“Thank you. Whose are these? Is there a woman without pants running around town?” I joke, not sure I even want to know the answer to that.

“Sydni left them here months ago. She won’t mind if you borrow them. You can burn them if you want. I don’t want her stuff in my house anymore.”

I fold them and put them off to the side. “Duly noted. Let’s eat.”

He raves over my lasagna, telling me it’s just as good as his mom’s and he’d love for me to make him dinner on the days I’m here cleaning his house. He’ll throw me some more money to cook. I agree, not because I want the money, but because I want to cook for him. I have no idea why I’m so drawn to domestic activities, but I am, and now I’m incredibly excited about cooking for him a few times a week. My mind starts to churn with meal ideas.

“Hey,” I say as I’m cleaning up our dishes after dinner. “After we check on the food stations, do you want to hang out and watch a movie in Dad’s theatre room? He’s not coming home tonight; he’s staying in the city meeting with some friends, and I’m still mad at Chloe so I don’t want to see her yet.”

“I can’t tonight, I have a date with Lisa.”

I almost drop the towel I’m drying my hands with. I didn’t know he was seeing Lisa again.

“Oh,” I try to hide my disappointment behind a smile. “Maybe another time.”

“Are you okay to be alone all night?”

“Of course. You know my father and his crazy security system. I’ll just read and watch the bunny hop around my room. I’m still kinda tired, anyway.”

“If I had known you wanted to hang out I would have told Lisa I couldn’t see her.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. I want you to have fun on your date. I’m glad you’re giving her another chance.” I honestly want to be happy for him, but I feel like Lisa doesn’t deserve or appreciate him. How could she when she called him cold and uncaring? She clearly doesn’t get him at all.

Tor is unusually quiet and distracted when we check on the food traps, and he opts out of our ritual of sitting on the rock and making wishes. I’m disappointed, because I love our little rituals, but I assume he wants to get to his date and I’ve probably worn out my welcome by now. An unexpected call from me for a ride home has turned into me spending the entire day at his house.