Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Troll my eyes

at him and his antics.

“Calm down, Mr. Overgrown Guard Dog, it’s just the fire alarm,” I say sarcastically as I push past him to get to the stove again.

Because he was distracting me with his strong, firm hold and that kiss that tore through my psyche, I forgot about the bacon frying in the skillet. It started to burn, causing smoke to drift towards the fire alarm. And with my eyes closed so I could get lost in the feel of him at my back as his words awakened carnal thoughts in my mind, I didn’t notice the smoke.

Wedging myself between him and the stove, I stretch upwards to reach the smoke alarm before it goes off too long and notifies the fire department. How would I explain to them that I was so distracted by the stranger in my kitchen as he felt me up and short–circuited my brain with one featherlike kiss in my neck, that I almost burned my whole house down?

When he sees what I’m after, he steadies me by the hips, again, and then lifts me, like I weigh nothing more than a single piece of paper, to basically eye level with the device. Granted, it isn’t very high; I usually use my two–step footstool to reach the same height. But, the fact that he makes picking my thick ass up look so easy, has me flustered. No man has even attempted it, and here he is, doing it like it’s just another typical Saturday morning.

I quickly switch it off and bring my hands down to his forearms before saying, “You can put me down now.”

He slowly drops me to my feet but doesn’t let go of my hips, as if the idea pains him. I can’t exactly call him out on it, because I’ve come to like his touch as it scars my skin.

Trying to distract myself from the feelings he’s unlocking in me, I turn the burner below the skillet off and do something monumentally stupid. I grab its handle to take it over to the sink because the bacon is burned to a blackened crisp and completely inedible.

Luckily, my brain starts working almost immediately when it realizes that my hand is on the verge of also being burned to a blackened crisp as well, and I drop the pan while hissing “Shit!”

I don’t notice the bacon grease sloshing over the rim when the pan wobbles precariously on the stove top. I don’t feel the searing pain in my palm and the inside of my fingers. I don’t even notice the smell of smoke still hanging in the air- most likely to stench up my kitchen if I don’t open a door or window soon.

What I do notice, though, is the way Thane grabs my injured hand by the wrist, holds it like it’s made of glass, and inspects it as if it physically pains him to see the reddened, sensitive flesh.

Gently, he pulls me over to the sink, opens the cold water tap, and guides my hand underneath the running water. Initially, it stings like a bitch, but after a minute or two, it becomes more and more bearable. Thane keeps looking at my hand as he holds it steady underneath the stream, making me squirm with the intensity that’s etched on his face.

“I’m fine,” I say when the tense silence in the kitchen becomes too overwhelming

-You

scared me,” he admits, his voice low and raspy.

literally got stabbed, but a tiny blister freaks you out?” I ask playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Then, he blows my whole world to smithereens with his following words, said in a serious tone, as he looks me dead in the eyes, “Wounds heal. But you? You’re not replaceable.”

His gentle, slow, methodical actions have my heart picking up speed. I’ve never had someone look after me with such reverence and genuine

When he’s satisfied with his handiwork, he pulls me towards the couch in the living room and gently guides me down onto its cushions. “Sit, relax, don’t move your hand,” he orders. There he is. Captein Control Freak is back and ready for action.

“But I haven’t finished our lunch yet,” I argue halfheartedly. The last thirty minutes‘ emotional rollercoaster has taken a toll on me, and taking a moment to sit back and decompress does sound very enticing right about now,

12

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