“There is a gym. A den of books. The lookout,” he stated, before pointing to the ceiling.
“Lookout?” It sounded promising.
“I’ll take you after you’ve finished eating,” he offered as another half biscuit followed half a strip of bacon into his mouth. He wasn’t a messy eater, but he could put away portions that would choke and kill me if I attempted them. I had hardly put a dent in my food, and he had cleared out most of the food that I assumed would be leftovers.
His well-appointed house, the proper etiquette he displayed, and although he hadn’t spoken much, I could tell that he was also well-spoken. None of it matched what I expected of Khane. Reality shattered the personality profile I had built based on speculation. He was complex, sophisticated, and insanely attractive.
When he reached across the table in my direction, I flinched and drew back until I realized he was reaching for my plate that I had finally emptied. I already felt bad for prejudging and for gawking at him, so flinching away from him made it appear that I was an even bigger jerk.
He walked away with the dishes and disappeared around a bend that separated the kitchen from the dining room. I started collecting the rest of the dishes. The least I could do was help since I was the guest, and he had been nice enough to cook and let me eat his food.
My nose met my shoulder, sniffing his shirt again, loving the freshness with a tinge of his masculine scent infused in the material. I turned into the kitchen, smiling for no apparent reason.
Smack!
It was a full body collision into a slab of firm hardness that took my breath away. I managed to keep a hold of the pan that held the last of the eggs, but the smaller pan carrying the last biscuit clattered to the floor. The biscuit shot off in one direction as the pan rattled once and stopped.
I went chasing after the biscuit that wheeled itself across the kitchen floor, as Khane picked up the pan. By the time I chased down the biscuit and picked it up, he was reaching for the items in my hands before I clumsily dropped something else.
He tossed the biscuit in the trashcan under the closed area of the sink and placed the dishes in the hot soapy water he had drawn in the basin. I wasn’t even going to ask why he didn’t use his dishwasher. It didn’t appear broken, but this was his house to do as he pleased.
“I can help,” I volunteered. I wasn’t ready to leave. I think I liked being around him. A giddy little spark deepened my smile when he pointed at the area to the right of him without a word. He washed, and I rinsed and stacked the dishes on the drying rack. Surprisingly, the silence between us wasn’t an uncomfortable one. It was more peaceful than the loud silence of being alone—if that made any sense.
Absently, I took the glass from his hand when he handed it over. When my fingertips brushed the back of his fingers, the warmth from the touch produced a spark that fanned out and saturated me. It was a peculiar sensation that stirred my curiosity. How could that one little touch have the ability to warm my whole body?
When he handed me the forks, I had to see if what I’d experienced before was a product of my imagination or something real. I sent my fingers tracing up the back of his hand and found that I hadn’t been imagining the spark our touch produced. He curled his big hand into a tight fist and pulled it away before thrusting it back into the water.
Why was I feeling more connected to Khane than I was Arjen? Why the hell did I want to explore it further, knowing it would cause trouble?