Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head, his eyes shuttering, closing me out from whatever was going on inside of him. He pulled on some pants and padded over to me. He cupped the back of my head and leaned in for a soft kiss. It was too soft. Tantalizing. I went with him as he started to pull away, unable to keep a moan from escaping.
God. He tasted so good.
His forehead rested against mine. “We can’t leave until you’ve seen your father.” Then he pulled away, leaving me in the bathroom. For the first time over the last few days, I walked out alone, with a towel wrapped around me, dripping water onto the floor. Some of me had begun to air dry, but my hair was soaked. Kai was in the closet.
I went to the dresser where my clothes were and finished drying off. I pulled on black leggings and an oversized V-neck tunic that draped at my thighs. When I was done, Kai had moved to the kitchen, so I went after him. I watched him start the coffee machine, still patting my hair dry, and I curled up on one of the kitchen chairs.
“You’re waiting for me? Is that what you’re saying?” There was more to it. There had to be. I now watched him pull out a pan, a loaf of bread, as the coffee machine brewed.
I waited for him to answer my question. When he didn’t, I said, “Kai.”
He sighed, pausing to look up at me. “No. I’m waiting for myself.”
“For yourself? What do you mean?”
This was it. I felt it then. This was the day we would face whatever was going to happen in the future. A fear pricked me, making me wonder if he had plans for me I didn’t know about. My mouth dried. “You’re not—you’re not going to leave me?”
His eyes widened. He was out of the kitchen in a flash.
I expected him to say something, anything, to ease my sudden paranoia. He said nothing, but he picked me up, so easily and swiftly. I knew he was strong. I had felt it so many times, but I still marveled.
He hugged me to him, smoothing a hand down my hair and back. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go, to be honest.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I heard his words like a whisper carried away on a sudden breeze. I wondered if he’d actually said them.
But then I heard, “Not fully.”
I smoothed my hands down his front and tried to smile. “You sure? Because you just scared me a bit.”
“Hmmm.” He hugged me tighter before depositing me on the counter next to where he had the bread. Kissing me briefly, he stepped back, but kept a hand on my leg, pulling more bread slices out, then grabbing a bowl from the cupboard behind me.
“What are you making?”
“French toast.” He pulled eggs, milk, vanilla, sugar, and cinnamon from the fridge and cupboards. He began whisking the batter, moving back to stand between my legs and reaching over to turn the burner on.
“You’re cooking?”
He had never cooked. This was completely new.
He smirked at me, putting oil into the pan. “Brooke’s not the only one who has some culinary tendencies.”
I liked this look on him. I liked it a lot.
I remained there, content, never moving more than a step or two away from me. He began piling the French toast he made onto a large plate. He was making more than enough, but then I realized he wasn’t cooking just for us. He was cooking for the guards, and with a lost and distracted look in his eyes.
He was cooking to distract himself.
I slid my fingers through his hair, enjoying how he closed his eyes and moved his head like a cat, savoring the caress from me.
“You mentioned my father before.”
He grimaced, stiffening. “Can we not talk about him?”
We hadn’t been talking about him for four days. I frowned.
“I think we should.”
He was so tense now.
“Kai,” I said gently.
I touched his side just before he ripped away from me. Flicking the stove off, he took the platter of toast and carried it to the door. He opened it and offered the French toast to the two guards outside. “Here. Take these downstairs to the break room.”
I didn’t hear what the response was, but Kai grabbed a bottle of maple syrup and passed it to them. He closed the door again and turned to regard me. His tortured expression was back, hitting a nerve in me and stirring me up.
I hated whatever was bothering him.
He raked a tired hand through his hair, reaching behind him to lock the door. He moved to the living room.
I followed him, sitting on one end of the couch and pulling one of the blankets folded over the back to my lap.