Page 54 of Cruelly Fated
With him acting all chivalrous and refusing to keep his hands off me, it only made it harder to distance myself from him and protect myself. His scent… I hadn’t noticed it during the illusions. I inhaled again. Smoke and scorched earth, laced with the faintest trace of worn leather and heat like he’d been forged, not born. The unique fragrance clung to my nostrils and tickled them with every reckless heartbeat.
A low rumble reverberated through him, one I could only interpret as approval of mesniffinghim. I winced, cheeks heating in embarrassment, even though the silly act didn’t come close to what we’d done in thatcave.
Kyon strode into the bathroom and set me gently on my feet before turning the knobs on the claw-foot tub. Steamy water cascaded out of the faucet. He retrieved a jar of salts from the cabinet and scattered a generous handful into the rising steam. Patchouli and sea salt perfumed the air. Once he returned the jar and completed his self-assigned tasks, his dangerous gaze swung my way.
Kyon stalked forward, all business, his brows drawn low. He undid the front of my shirt, revealing the low-cut bra—part of my costume. I stilled, unsure of his intent. My chest rose, breasts swelling under his scrutiny. He skimmed a thumb over the top of one, and heat coiled through me. We’d skipped much of the second base earlier, and now my body craved his full attention. Traitorous thing.
He pulled away, a fleeting smirk ghosting over his features. “I’ll leave you to it.”
As he rounded the corner, I blew out a heavy breath and let my head fall back against the wall. My legs turned to jelly again, having anticipated another round—this time in his top-of-the-world tub. We were playing with fire.
I peeled myself off the wall, shedding clothes to the floor. Beyond the glass wall, Avari glittered like a painting with blurred edges and too many colors bleeding together. The city that never slept.
I dipped my toes first, then climbed into the tub and slowly lowered myself into the steamy water. Patchouli hung heavy inthe air. The heat seeped into my bones, easing the tautness in my muscles.
Towering buildings blinked with neon, and traffic far below formed glowing ribbons of movement. The soundproof glass dulled the noise to nothing. I closed my eyes for just a moment, letting the silence and sensation lull me.
I woke with a start, my body shivering. Cold water lapped at my skin. I must have dozed off. Splashing a handful of water over my face, I climbed out and wrapped myself in a towel soft as clouds.
The bedroom looked exactly how I’d left it this morning—sheets smoothed, not a pillow out of place. I peeked into the kitchen, where soft under-cabinet lights gave the space a warm, inviting glow.
Kyon was gone.
My stomach dipped with disappointment, and I frowned. What had I expected? That he’d be here waiting on me, ready to meet my every need? I rolled my eyes.
Wake up, girl. Men leave. They don’t hang around.
I slipped on my tank top and shorts and crawled under the blanket. With Kyon free now, I’d have to figure out a new place to stay. But that was a problem for tomorrow.
The mouthwatering smell of sizzling bacon wafted into the room, drifting right into my nostrils. I stretched lazily, then stilled, eyes flying open. High white ceiling, wall-sized windows overlooking the city…Shit!
I shot upright.
I peeked through the half-open barn door. Kyon stood shirtless at the stove, his back to me, muscles shifting and rippling as he worked with intent.
Where had he come from?
I scanned the expanse of the bed. No sign of anyone having slept beside me. Raking my hands through tangled hair, I tried to piece together the night. Had I misread everything? Was I supposed to leave?
“I hope you’re hungry.” Kyon’s deep baritone cut through the silence, jolting me fully awake.
My jaw dropped. Kyon faced me now, holding a plate in each hand—one piled with scrambled eggs, ketchup and all, the other stacked with perfectly crispy bacon. But the most scrumptious sight washim.
His tattoos sprawled across his chest, wrapping around his hard pecs—something I hadn’t had the presence of mind to admire last night. His shoulders were broad enough to block the sun, muscles bulging around his neck like armor. And those abs… Forget a six-pack. He had a twelve-pack that angled into a sharply cut V disappearing below the waistband.
Damn that kitchen island for blocking the rest.
I suspected he wore shorts but couldn’t stop myself from hoping he’d ditched clothes altogether. I mean, why get dressed when your bod is that of a god-tier barbarian? It should be illegal.
Kyon cleared his throat, eyebrow arched.
Right. He was offering me breakfast.
“I’m starving,” I said, except it came out like I was working a damn sex hotline.Ohmygod. Heat flooded my face, and I jumped out of bed, fumbling with the blanket in a fake attempt to make the bed, avoiding eye contact. Or rather, eye-to-body ogling.
Plates clinked against the counter. I drew a steadying breath and strolled into the kitchen. Kyon had his back to me again, rummaging in the fridge. I sighed, half disappointed, when I saw he wore low-slung black athletic shorts, the clingy kind that left little to the imagination but still teased enough to make me want more.
“In the back, to the left,” I said, then mentally kicked myself. Presumptuous much?
