Holy Ghost of Christmas Past, this man smells divine. My heart beating madly, I say, “Are you married?”
Staring at my mouth, he says, “You know I’m not.”
Yes, we’ve already discussed this, but I wanted to make sure he didn’t acquire a Mrs. Dangerous Alpha since I last saw him a few months ago.
“Work keep you too busy?”
“Something like that.”
“Hmm. So it’s only one-night stands for you, then?”
His gaze drifts back up to mine. He takes his time, looking over my features, until our eyes meet again.
It feels like being plugged into a socket.
In a throaty voice, he says, “No one-night stands. No girlfriends. No anything since I first laid eyes on you.”
We stare at each other in blistering silence until the smoke alarm starts to scream.
Because my nerves are already stretched thin, I jump at the sound. Then I run into the kitchen. It’s filled with smoke. Coughing, I pull the door open and wave away the smoke that billows out into my face.
Behind me, Kage says, “Move.”
He’s thrown his wool overcoat onto a kitchen chair and put on the oven mitts. The tight black short-sleeved T-shirt he’s wearing shows off his impressive collection of tattoos and muscles, so much so that I have to look away so he doesn’t catch me gaping.
I step aside and let him grab the baking sheet with its smoking, blackened cookies from the demon oven, then watch in admiration as he calmly closes the oven door, hits the fan button on the top of the range, and sets the baking sheet onto the stovetop.
“Trash?”
“Under the sink.”
As the smoke gets sucked into the fan, he opens the cabinet under the sink, pulls out the trash can, and grabs a spatula from the crockery pot on the counter. Then he scrapes all the burnt cookies off the cookie sheet into the garbage.
“You should use aluminum foil to line the pan. It makes for easier cleanup.”
Maybe he watches The Food Network in between beating up his boxing bag and flying through snowstorms and going around being ridiculously sexy.
I say drily, “Thank you, Gordon Ramsay. I’ll be sure to try that next time.”
He pauses for a moment over the trash, then returns the empty cookie sheet to the stove, removes the oven mitts, and tosses them onto the counter, and turns to me.
Approaching me, he says softly, “Interrupting me is one thing that will get you taken over my knee, beautiful girl. Sass is another.” He looks at my mouth and moistens his lips.
Can you faint and still be standing up?
Equal parts alarmed and turned on, I back up until my butt hits the kitchen table. Then I stand there, wide-eyed. He prowls closer and closer until we’re nose to nose and I’m staring up into his eyes.
He’s silent. Waiting. Giving off heat like a furnace.
I blurt, “He’s a Michelin-starred chef, though. So it was really kind of a compliment.”
Seeing my anxiety, he murmurs, “Please don’t be afraid of me. I told you I’d never hurt you. That was the truth.”
I’m breathing like I’ve just run a timed sprint, so it’s a little hard to answer. “It’s not fear. It’s nerves. You’re very…”
I can’t think of a good enough word until I remember what Sloane called him the night we met. “Undomesticated.”
His smile comes on slowly. “Now that was a compliment.”
“It’s what my girlfriend called you that night at Downrigger’s when you told me you weren’t a knight in shining armor.”
“Your girlfriend the confident brunette?”
“That’s the one.”
He tilts his head and considers me. “Did she tell you she hit on me when you went to the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“And that I wasn’t interested?”
“Yes. And to be honest, neither one of us could believe it.”
“She’s a pretty girl. But there are a million pretty girls in the world.” He lifts his hand and lightly touches my cheek. His voice softer, he says, “There’s only one of you.”
I exhale, hard, and close my eyes. “You’re killing me here.”
“Tell me to go, and I will.”
“I really don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I told you I didn’t think a fling would be good for me.”
“I don’t want a fling.”
When I open my eyes, I find him staring down at me with such intensity, it takes my breath away.
He murmurs, “I want everything you have to give, Natalie, for as long as you want to give it to me.”
Knees, don’t you dare give out on me now. Sounding as desperate as I feel, I say, “We barely even know each other.”
“We know enough. And we’ll know more the more time we spend together.”
When I don’t respond, he says, “But you’re going to have to make the first move.”
I blink so slowly, I’m sure it looks comical. “Wait. What?”
“You heard me.”
“You don’t consider everything you’ve said to me since I opened the door to be making the first move?”
An amused smile curves his lips. “Fair enough. You’ll have to make the second move, then. I won’t pressure you. It’ll be on your timetable, not mine.”
“It?”
“Us.”
He says it like it’s an absolute. An inevitability. As if he’s been to the future and had a good look around, and now is back here just waiting for me to get on board with the program.
If there’s one thing I really dislike, it’s being taken for granted.
Staring him right in the eye, I say, “Sorry in advance if this insults you, Romeo, but if your arrogance were nuclear energy, it could power the entire universe.”
After a beat, he throws his head back and laughs.
It startles me so much I plop right down onto the kitchen table.
He laughs and laughs, his broad chest shaking, his hands clutching his stomach, until finally he sighs and looks down at me, shaking his head.
“You’re adorable when you’re angry.”
“Don’t make me kick you in the shin. I’ve got a temper, just so you know.”
Leaning down to brace his arms on the table on either side of my body, Kage gazes deeply into my eyes.
“Good. I want you to speak your mind with me. Tell me when I’m out of line. Kick my ass if I need it. Because one thing I can guarantee you is that I’m not an easy man. I’m definitely gonna piss you off.”
I smile sweetly at him. “Really? Shocking.”
“Smartass.”
“One hundred percent. I guess that’s something you should know about me. Also, since we’re being so open and whatnot, I’m not sure how I feel about the whole ‘take you over my knee thing.’ I don’t like the idea of being spanked.”
“What if I could guarantee you’d like it?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “That is so something a man would say.”
He smiles. It looks dangerous. “We’ll table it for the time being. Any other pet peeves I should be aware of?”
His eyes are so filled with lust, I can barely concentrate. “I’ll make you a list.”