Page 50 of Séance

My eyes widen in surprise then narrow in determination. Who knew eggs could be so stubborn? I will not let one little egg outsmart me.

While part of me is tempted to google the issue, I’m too far gone. Using more strength, I whack the egg against the bowl, then jolt when the shell obliterates and slime oozes between my fingers.

I shoot to my feet, my eyes wide in alarm, a grimace twisting my features as everything just sort of seeps through my fingers and plops into the bowl. I’m unaware Jaceson stopped cutting to watch me until his warm chuckle fills the room.

“Never cracked an egg before, princess?”

Too stunned to speak, I blink up at him. I’m not even mad at him for calling me a princess when it sounds more like an endearment than him actually mocking me. I nibble my bottom lip, then shake my head. “I wasn’t allowed into the kitchen.”

I peer down at the mess in the bowl, the slime still coating my hand, and wrinkle my nose. “Are eggs supposed to be so disgusting?”

Chuckling, he peers down at the bowl with a bemused expression. I’ve never seen him so relaxed.

I’m so busy staring that I almost miss his words.

“Not exactly,” he muses. “We don’t usually include the shells.”

He effortlessly fishes them out, grabs one of the eggs from the carton, then places it in my palm. Before I can try again, he steps behind me and slips his arms around me. My stomach goes weightless as he guides my hand toward the bowl. I’m so distracted by the scent of sunshine and man that I’m barely aware of his actions.

He cracks the egg against the bowl with a practiced move, fracturing just a small part of the shell instead of shattering it.He brings his other arm around me and uses both hands to pull the two halves of the egg apart.

Being wrapped in his muscular arms from behind should send panic ricocheting through me. The only time I’ve been near men was when they hurt me. It’s different with him, and I have this weird urge to snuggle into his embrace. His nearness is almost comforting.

It’s such an odd feeling that I shiver but make no move to leave.

It takes all my concentration to rip my attention off him and focus on the strong hands just inches in front of me. They are thick and rough, the skin nicked with scars, the nails blunt.

They are hands that could do harm, yet they have been nothing but gentle with me.

Imagining his hands on my body has my breath shuddering out of me, and I’m not sure if the idea is terrifying or tempting. I’m distracted from my thoughts when the slimy insides of the egg plop into the bowl without leaving a mess behind. I purse my lips, my face scrunched up in concentration as I mentally go over the steps again.

Jaceson, oblivious to my inner turmoil, grabs another egg and holds it out to me. “Your turn.”

I shiver at his husky tone, my skin electrified by his nearness. I swallow hard and reach for the egg, my breath hitching when he runs a finger lightly over the center of my palm.

Before I can even really register the touch, the cool egg is pressed into my hand, and I reflexively grab it. I shake my head to clear my fanciful thoughts. Since I’ve never really been around many men, much less touched one, I’m positive that I’m blowing things out of proportion.

With grim determination, I concentrate on my job—cracking the fucking egg, not obsessing over a boy.

I almost feel bad for scoffing at romance books when the girl would lose her head over a boy. Now I’m starting to understand how easy it is to get distracted.

Gritting my teeth, I whack the egg against the bowl.

It disintegrates under my touch, and Jaceson quickly guides my hands over the bowl. He plucks out the shells with a chuckle, then dumps the scrambled mess into the bowl.

“Better,” he says with a smile in his voice. He places another egg in my hand and nudges me forward. “Now try again, just with a little less force.”

With a determined nod, I accept the egg and concentrate on my task. I crack it once but only succeed in denting the damn thing.

“Again,” Jaceson orders, his voice firm.

Without hesitation, I obey, smacking the egg in the same spot. When it cracks open, my eyes widen, and I hastily copy Jaceson and pull the two edges apart. I’m not as neat as him, and my fingers end up covered in slime once again, but no shells land in the bowl.

“I did it!” I jump and whirl with a big smile, ridiculously proud of such a minor accomplishment. I’m still within the circle of his arms, which means I’m practically plastered against his chest. I instinctively back up, only to halt when the counter hits my lower back.

Then I realize I don’t want to go anywhere else.

Amusement twinkles in his eyes as he stares down at me, his lips almost quirking into a smile. His face softens, and my heart skips a beat at having that look directed at me.

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