by Keta Kendric
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.”
He glared, his brows pinching before he picked up the bottle of nail polish and eyed it like it was a live specimen. The bottle looked tiny in his big hand. Was he considering my request? Was he about to polish my nails? I sat higher, waiting and anxious, as my leg jumped and my heart raced in anticipation.
His eyes shifted from the bottle to my hand before his gaze met mine. “I’ve never painted anything living before, but I’ll do my best.”
His response blew my mind. It flew apart even wider when he sat and laid out his hand for mine. I sat my hand in his warm palm, my gaze fixed on his face. Although the skin of his palm was rough, it didn’t take away the delicate touch that made my hand tingle, a sensation that was working its way up my arm. He placed the bottle on the end table before he lifted the brush as if handling plutonium and bought it to my index finger first.
A deep smile covered my face and fanned out over my body as the priceless sight forced tears to sting the backs of my eyes. Watching him be so careful and doing something I knew was out of character for him was making me emotional. He concentrated hard, brushing the polish on with light, careful strokes of the brush.
He was doing a better job than me. He took his time with each finger, determination set in his expression and in the way he leaned into every action, every stroke. This moment with him was more intimate than if he had kissed me, a moment I would always cherish.
Once each nail was done, he glanced at me expectantly, waiting for my opinion. The teeth-bearing grin I flashed caused the corners of his mouth to lift as his smile brought a youthful glow to his face. “It looks great. Far better job than I would have done. See.” I held up my not so neatly painted left hand next to his to drive home my point.
My heart was on the verge of being stolen, and Khane had both of his big hands wrapped around it, threatening to snatch it from my chest. He left me smiling at my nails, but my eyes followed him until only the sound of his movement called back.
I wanted to linger in his company, but I fought my impulses so I wouldn’t chase him off and spend three days waiting to see him again.
Although I hadn’t heard a peep from Khane since he had polished my nails, I sensed him in the house. When noon approached, I went in search of him. I started to droop with disappointment and drag with sadness when I couldn’t find him.
The last place I checked was the lookout, and there he was in all his splendid masculine glory. He stood at the rail’s edge, and although he was fully covered in a navy T-shirt and loose-fitting jeans, it didn’t hide his manly physique. He wore house slippers, which exposed his toes, and for such a force of a man, his feet, like the rest of him, were neat and manicured.
He had excellent hygiene, which I appreciated. It was disheartening when hygiene became something to look forward to because sadly, I remembered a few men that made my skin itch with their dirty bodies.
Khane was a different kind of dirty. He had been dirtied by the dangerous life he led: his past, his tattoos, the inner workings of him merged to create this magnificent force with the ability to tug at my senses. His savage nature lingered below his surface, silently calling to a part of me that had never been explored. He was the kind of dirty that I was secretly attracted to, sinfully filthy.
He drew me in without trying, his wicked sexiness was a drug that perfumed the air and made me high on contact. One touch from him had made me surrender to his call, giving me the kind of thrill I hungered to experience again.
My gaze lingered. The male potency of him had me licking my lips as my lady parts clenched shamelessly. Instinctively, he turned and caught me staring. I approached and stood next to him, ensuring I was close enough to draw his heat.
A buzz sizzled over my skin when I was anywhere near him. It was shameful but hard to ignore that the ache in my sex turned into a vibrating beat of restlessness I no longer tried to control.
“I made lunch if you’re hungry,” he shared but kept his face aimed at the view.
I stabbed a playful finger into his side f
or a quick nudge. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have been happy to help.” He hadn’t moved away from my touch, the sight eliciting an immediate smile.
“You appeared busy. So busy, you didn’t notice when I peeked in on you,” he stated, finally setting his gaze on mine. His stare alone was enough to set my blood to a low boil. Too quickly, he pulled his gaze away. A long moment stretched between us as we used the view as a distraction.
“Are you ready for marriage?” I asked him out of the blue. The idea of him marrying someone else, even though it was my cousin, didn’t sit well with me.
“No, but if it helps, it’s just another duty as far as I’m concerned. Besides, it’s only a piece of paper,” he replied, nonchalance expressed in his tone, his face impassive.
Unable to hold back, I laughed, making his curious gaze seek mine.
“I think you and my cousin will get along just fine because she thinks the same way. I, on the other hand, wish I could have a real marriage someday.” I shook off the fierce sting to my heart at the reality of my pending situation with Arjen.
“The idea that it’s a duty or task hurts. This arrangement, although I agreed to it, has broken away a piece of my heart. I don’t want to do it.” I nearly choked on the last sentence as the emerging sadness threatened to take my pleasant mood.
A touch of sorrow crinkled the corners of Khane’s eyes on my behalf. He moved his hand closer, reaching out to me, but paused and retracted, forcing himself not to touch me. “I know it won’t ease your hurt, but my brother will treat you well. He may not be able to give you a traditional marriage, but he would never do anything to hurt you.”
I rested my elbows on the stone railing and stared into the waiting view below. The stone gnawed at my bones, the hard pinch a temporary distraction. The idea of life with Arjen seemed like it would never be boring, but it was a life I didn’t want.
“I’m meeting my cousin later. She wants to treat me to an early dinner,” I reminded, changing the subject.
“I know,” he replied. I had told him at breakfast about my dinner plans with Mecca.
“My cousin is one of my favorite people in this world, but I have to be honest with you, I’d rather stay right here with you.”
Dammit, that comment was supposed to stay in my head. However, my smile grew wide at the sight of such a big strong man going still with shock at my statement, a reaction that confirmed that there was something more between us and not my imagination.
The tense set of his body spoke of his resistance to react, but our gazes still managed to meet. The charged silence brimmed with our swirling energies, making me sway and bend to his every move like invisible wires connected us. He was poised to speak, but the light in his gaze dimmed, destroying whatever he had considered.
“How does this work? With you being my protector and all. Do we go in the same car? Do you go with me like a bodyguard and sit with us?”
“We’ll drive separate cars. I’ll hang back to give you as much privacy as I can without losing sight of you. You won’t see me, but you can be assured that I’ll be watching you.”
A sly smile I failed to suppress spread across my face. “I think I like the idea of you watching me.”
Again, my bold words, ones that were supposed to stay inside my head, left his faced pinched in a mixture of worry and concern. I had never been like this with any man, but Khane brought out a brazenness that I usually stamped down for the sake of being the good girl, the gentle Evans, the lovable Desiree. With Khane, I wanted to unleash everything I kept suppressed and throw caution to the wind. I wanted to embrace my desires, and I wanted him to be the one to satisfy them.
It was in the way he looked at me. There was lust, but it was all stuffed behind a look of longing for something with more depth. There was an endearing curiosity there, and I could have been interpreting it wrong, but it almost seemed like he was asking himself, what if?
When our gazes met again, we lived a lifetime in the connection that sped up the flow of everything inside me, my pulse, my blood, the currents of my desire. Never before had I dissected the way I reacted to someone and explored their every action and reaction. The notion was enough to drive home the conclusion that Khane and I were sharing something special, something rare, precious, and hard to come by.
When the swirling force of our chemistry grew too thick, he left my side to sit on the patio sofa, and I turned to the view for relief.
Eventually, I turned away from the view, ignoring the splendor set in front of me to feast on the man that called to me louder than any sound ever to pierce time and space.
Khane was patient with me and out of respect to my unorthodox engagement with his brother, he tiptoed around his attraction for me. The man had shared his kitchen with me, an endeavor I had enjoyed beyond measure. He had painted my nails, a gift as precious as if he had given me a ring. He knew how to put a genuine smile on my face, all without long, drawn out conversations or jokes. He didn’t force our connection, it happened naturally.
He shared my love for gothic art and appreciated the creation of nontraditional artistry and design. He ignited a spark in me that I realized had never been stoked. Where had he been all my man-wandering-without-a-connection life?
It may not be today, may not even be next week, but if Arjen didn’t come back soon, the fire between Khane and me was destined to burn away our control. My problem: I wasn’t so sure I would make an effort to stomp out the flames.
How was I supposed to stop something that was hell to control and rocked me so hard it vibrated my bones?
10
Desiree
I gripped Mecca around the neck so tight that she pretended to cough to shake me loose. It had been a week since I had last seen her, but it felt like a year. I had hardly allowed her time to exit her silver Maserati before I pounced.
As usual, my cousin appeared to have stepped off the cover of a photo shoot of a fashion magazine. Her skin tone was a few shades deeper than mine, a rich brown that was always as flawless and smooth as polished bronze.
She had gotten her shoulder-length natural hair braided, the length of her elegantly patterned braids reaching her butt. The mega high heels she wore with her distressed skinny jeans had her glancing down at me when we were the same height, give or take a centimeter.
I raked my fingers through my locks, that weren’t messy, but a twinge of guilt nipped at me for not being as motivated as my cousin to always look my best. After a moment, the faint traces of guilt that had touched me disappeared. It didn’t matter what I did, a man was going to either want me, or he wasn’t. I reprimanded myself for entertaining that last thought. With that kind of attitude, no wonder I was participating in an arranged marriage I didn’t want.
Mecca pointed at my car. “When did this happen? Did you finally take my advice and spend some money?”
“No. It was a gift from my fiancé.”
We walked back to my car so she could get a better look at it. She peeked inside after I opened the door for her.
“I see you, Arjen Vallin, taking care of my cousin in style,” she mumbled. “This is nice, Des. Nasty nice. I love it.”
We walked side by side, and I couldn’t help looping my arm with hers. I loved my cousin with everything I had. When we were in high school, and even now, if anyone messed with me, Mecca had my back no matter what.
“You look good, Des, considering you’ve been staying with the Kannibal. He didn’t take a bite out of you, did he?” She spun to engage her car’s locks as we headed towards La Baguette French Bistro, one of the best restaurants in town.
“He doesn’t eat people. It’s just a nickname. And you’re the one that’s marrying him soon,” I pointed out. I sensed Khane’s eyes on me and prayed he didn’t know how to read lips, or he’d see that we were talking about him.
We strutted through the tall glass and brass doors, and the voice of the overly-enthusiastic host met us in greeting.
“Good day, lovely ladies
. How may I be of service to you today?”
“Reservation for Evans,” Mecca replied.
He scanned his tablet, passing his finger across the glossy surface before he presented a gracious smile.
“Your table is ready. Right this way.” He gestured his hand in the direction he wanted us to go before taking the lead.
“Yes, I’ll be marrying him, but I’m counting on you to give me the inside scoop on him. The rest, I have or will find out by unconventional means,” she stated as a teasing smirk danced over her lips and mischief flashed in her gaze.
In other words, the background checks she was running on the Vallin brothers and pretty much anyone associated with them. My cousin was nothing if she wasn’t thorough.
We were assisted into our seats and handed menus. “Your server will be with you momentarily,” the man offered before sauntering away.
“So, let me get this straight. You want me to spy on your fiancé. Why? You probably already know more about him than I do.”
“I like to know who I’ll be dealing with ahead of time. There’s only so much truth I can pull from outside sources. Sure, it’s going to be a sham marriage, but you know me, I like to have concrete information outside of rumors and gossip before I enter a situation. The Vallin men are whispered about, their reputation causes grown men to shake in fear, yet they avoid the spotlight and stay in the shadows. That alone makes a statement.”
She leaned across the table, eyeing me with a lifted right brow. “My future husband or some other member of the Vallin clan has eyes on us right now, don’t they?”
“Yes. How do you know that?” I asked, fighting to keep from glancing around.
She leaned back in her chair, her arms folding across her chest. “I know from experience. They haven’t made wedding announcements, and already there is a man tailing me, watching my every move. It’s kind of hard to miss a big burly-ass Caucasian following me around.”
