Chapter 163
Nora's POV
I stretched lazily against the sheets, feeling pleasantly sore in places I'd forgotten could ache. Julian's arm was still draped across my waist, his breathing slow and even.
My stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly.
His lips curved against my shoulder. "Hungry?"
"Starving, actually." I turned to face him. "We kind of skipped dinner."
"My fault." He brushed a strand of hair from my face. "I'll make you something."
"I want to eat here. In bed."
He paused, and I watched conflict flicker across his face—military discipline versus indulgence. His jaw tightened slightly.
I let my lower lip push out just a fraction. Not quite a pout. Just a suggestion.
He exhaled through his nose, mouth twitching. "You're trouble."
"Is that a yes?"
"That's a 'you're lucky I can't say no to you.'" He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "But don't make it a habit."
"So... sometimes is okay?"
"With you? I'll get used to anything."
He slid out of bed and I watched him cross the room, unselfconscious in his nakedness. Moonlight from the window caught the planes of his back, the lean muscles shifting under skin.
Then I saw it.
A dark, puckered scar below his left shoulder blade. Surgical thread marks still faintly visible at the edges.
My breath caught. "Julian, wait."
He turned, one hand on the doorframe. "What's wrong?"
I sat up, pulling the sheet around me. "Your back. That scar—is that a gunshot wound?"
His expression went carefully blank. "Old injury. From my service days."
"You got shot." It wasn't a question.
"Border patrol mission. It happened. I'm fine now." His tone was dismissive, like he was talking about a scraped knee.
I swung my legs out of bed and crossed to him, reaching out to trace the uneven tissue with my fingertips. He went very still under my touch.
I wrapped my arms around him from behind, pressing my cheek against the scar. Against the proof that he'd come too close to being taken from this world before I ever knew him.
"You have to stay safe now," I said fiercely. "Healthy and whole. No more bullets. No more scars."
His hand came up to cover mine where it rested on his chest. His fingers laced through mine, holding tight.
"I'll do my best," he said quietly.
"Promise me."
"I promise, baby."
---
He made me wait in bed while he went downstairs. I pulled on his discarded T-shirt and settled back against the pillows, half-embarrassed at my own demand.
What kind of grown woman insists on eating dinner in bed?
But when he returned carrying a tray laden with food, I forgot my self-consciousness.
Smoked salmon sandwiches cut into neat triangles. A bowl of fresh fruit—strawberries, blueberries, cantaloupe. Steaming tomato soup in a small ceramic bowl. Two glasses of warm milk.
"You made all this?" I asked, impressed.
"I heated soup and put together sandwiches. Don't give me too much credit." He set the tray carefully on the bed and climbed in beside me. "Eat."
I picked up one of the smaller finger sandwiches and held it up to his lips. "You first."
His eyebrow rose. "I'm not hungry."
"I don't care. Open."
Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or pleasure—and he obediently took a bite. His gaze never left my face as he chewed.
"Good?" I asked.
"Better when you feed me."
My cheeks warmed. I busied myself with my own food, acutely aware of him watching me with that soft, possessive look that made my pulse skip.
---
We ate in comfortable silence until my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I leaned over to check it. The message was from Andrew.
"Nora! We won again! Coach said my defense was MVP-level! 💪"
Below the text was a photo—Andrew in his basketball jersey, arm flexed, grinning at the camera. His shirt was half-off, showing his lean torso.
I felt Julian go still beside me.
Before I could react, his hand shot out and plucked the phone from my grip. He glanced at the screen, and his expression went dark.
"Really?" His voice was dangerously soft.
"Julian, it's not—"
He closed the message with one sharp swipe and set the phone face-down on the nightstand. "No."
"No what?"
"No looking at other men."
I blinked at him. "He's just a kid—"
"I don't care. I don't like it." He stood abruptly, yanked his T-shirt off his body, and tossed it aside. The lean, defined muscles of his chest and abdomen were on full display in the lamplight. "You want something to look at, look at your boyfriend."
I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh. "You're jealous."
"Yes. Problem?"
The blunt honesty startled me. I reached out and ran my palm over his stomach, feeling the hard ridges of muscle beneath warm skin. Giving him a deliberate squeeze. "Okay. You win. Better hand feel."
His breath caught. His hand shot out and caught my wrist, holding me still. "Nora. Don't start something unless you mean it."
I pulled my hand back and sat down. "I'm still eating. Down, boy."
He didn't move closer. Just stood there, muscles tense, visibly fighting for control.
I took pity on him and changed the subject. "Actually, I've been thinking about working out more. Emily recommended a gym with really good trainers. She said they're very professional."
His expression went flat. "Absolutely not."
"What?"
"You're not hiring some muscled trainer to put his hands on you."
"Julian, that's literally their job—"
"I don't care." He cut me off, voice hard. "You want to train? Fine. I'll train you. Tomorrow morning. Five AM. We'll use the estate gym."
I stared at him. "Five in the morning?"
"You wanted to work out. I'm offering." His jaw was set. "Take it or leave it."
"You're being ridiculous."
"I'm being your boyfriend. And your trainer, apparently. Five AM. Don't be late."
"You're bossy," I told him.
"You like it."
He pressed a kiss to my temple. "And you're stubborn. We're a perfect match."
After I finished eating, he started clearing away the dishes.
When he came back, I was curled up against the pillows, drowsy and content.
"Still awake?" he asked, sliding in beside me.
"Barely."
He pulled me into his arms, tucking my head under his chin. "Good. Sleep."
"I'm too full to move," I mumbled against his chest.
"Then don't." His fingers combed through my hair, slow and soothing. "Just stay here."
I tilted my head back to look at him. "Julian?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm glad you came home early."
His smile was soft. "Me too, baby."
I kissed him once, slow and sweet, then settled back into the curve of his shoulder.
Within minutes, I was asleep.