Desiree
Being an Evans had taught me to be tough. It taught me to be secure in my decisions and to be willing to accept the consequences of the choices I made. I wanted Khane Vallin even when I knew the consequences were likely to be hazardous to my health. I was likely flirting with death, but I accepted that I had been one reach out of death’s grip since the day I was born.
The man lit ambers in me that had been stoked countless times but had never been fully ignited. I had to know if the fire blazing between us would burn as hot as it had in that hall.
Khane had come in at a decent hour last night. I hadn’t waited on the couch like I usually did, but I waited up for him just the same. Other than exchanging pleasant greetings, we hadn’t said much to each other at dinner, but there was no denying the chemistry that we had allowed to break free.
The aroma of bacon had woken me today, and now I was rushing to the bathroom to pee and freshen up so I could make my way to the kitchen.
Anxious energy bounced through me, causing me to clench my hands together as I stepped into the kitchen. He stood at the stove tending to pots and pans, and upon my entry, his posture stiffened before he greeted, “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I replied before I strolled up to him at the stove. “Can I help? I can’t cook for shit, but it’s never too late to learn, right?”
My comments caused him to smile, although he had yet to glance in my direction. He pointed. “You can crack those eggs into a bowl and grab the milk from the fridge.” Smiling from ear to ear at the invite, I grabbed the milk and took a bowl down from the cabinet.
He had finished his task on the stove, so he edged closer and gave instructions on the proper way to crack eggs. This was news to me as I didn’t know there was a specific way. He proceeded to instruct me on the ingredients that would make the eggs fluffy and tasty, how hot to heat the skillet, and how to scramble them. A wide grin sat on my face the entire time. Not only was I learning how to cook, but I was learning from the most unlikely source.
Based on his reputation, and the update that Mecca had given me over the phone last night, it was like getting lessons in domestication from a feral animal you were taught never to approach. One of those animals you rarely saw and were too afraid to meet because that introduction would mean your imminent death.
If that were the case, death was at my side, and he was teaching me how to cook. And dammit if I didn’t like this version of death. I had always had a thing for the bad boys but had avoided them because of the trouble I knew they stirred.
Why did the idea of flirting with someone so dangerous send a thrill of excitement through me? Why did the fact that I was engaged to his brother get shoved so far to the back of my mind, it barely registered as a reality?
Next, I learned how to make perfect toast. There wasn’t much dialogue between us, but by his own admission in the hallway, I was receiving a part of him that others never had. The idea caused my smile to widen and a special spark to sizzle through me.
We were careful to avoid the elephant in the room, our swirling chemistry that had me tingling all over every time our eyes met. I enjoyed laughing and creating a meal with Khane. By the time we sat down to eat, I was telling him about my wild college days.
“We would literally get so drunk we didn’t know where we were when we woke up the next day,” I talked on, glad he appeared interested.
“It was nothing for us to go to class tipsy, hungover, and in some cases, our nightclothes. And all those stupid bets we’d make on things like who could come up with the most creative one-night stand, or who would be the first to navigate a successful threesome. We’d laid bets on everything from who would flunk out of school to who would end up pregnant first. I had so much meaningless and forgettable sex, so many wild parties, weed smoking, drinking, and pill popping. Even had a pregnancy scare my sophomore year.”
His face tightened in disbelief. My wild behavior stunned him if his glaring, unblinking eyes were any indication. “You? Drugs, meaningless sex, wild parties, and a pregnancy scare?”
I nodded before shrugging off his disbelief with the sly smile that slid across my lips. “Everyone assumed I was quiet and timid, but I had a wild streak that I kept on a tight leash. One that crept out when a certain mood would hit me.” Kind of like how I’m always feeling around you.
Most people, especially men, took one look and assumed I was the good, wholesome woman you took home to the family, until they found out I was an Evans.
The Evans’ blood flowing through my veins is what I believed fed my sometimes-questionable behavior. I believed it was what had me so drawn to Khane. I liked that he was a loner. I liked that he had a dark mystery about him. I like that he had a reputation so deadly and dangerous, that it was as frightening as it was exciting.
When we finished our breakfast, I helped him with the dishes again.
“So, are you staying home today?” I prayed I’d hear him say yes.
His contemplative stare froze me as I waited for his answer. My gaze was fixed on his eyes, although I was aware that he could only see me clearly out of one. Was I sick to like that a part of him was broken? I believed he would be too perfect otherwise.
“Yes,” he finally answered, breaking the trance he had put me in. He didn’t waste too many words, but I believed a part of it was his way of avoiding me.
Once we were done with breakfast, I headed to my room to lose myself in work. Khane’s pull on my senses was like nothing I had experienced, and I feared that if I didn’t put distance between us, I would end up saying or doing something that would cross the line we clearly needed.
Although I had an upcoming spa day with my friend, Patrena, my break from work had sent me digging in my luggage for my nail polish. Mecca said I was switching the colors with my moods. She may have been right because there was a certain therapeutic effect I drew from my self-manicures.
I padded down to the living room with my items and forced myself to sit on the couch, although hearing Khane moving around in the house had me wanting to go chasing after him. The polish had been slathered over my nails versus brushed on as my mind had remained connected to the owner of this house I couldn’t stop admiring.
A bold metallic silver made the tips of my left hand glimmer with life. I was preparing to start on my right hand when Khane walked in. My gaze panned between my unpolished hand and him a few times.
A lazy smile teased my lips, enticing my mischievous nature. I contemplated what I was about to propose. Although I was sure he would say no, I still felt the need to mess with Khane.
While blowing my wet nails dry, I spoke through the action. “Would you mind helping me out? I always have a hard time painting my right hand.”