Page 11 of Cooking Up a Demon
I reach up and grab his wrist, holding him in place. His skin hot beneath my hand. His grip tightens even more until it borders on pain.
For a brief moment, we stand as statues. And then I give in to the feeling welling up inside of me.
I tilt my head and press my mouth to his.
Chapter Eight
Eight
Heat flashes through me the moment our lips meet. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and I try to pull away. Kallax doesn’t let me. His grip on my neck keeps my head tilted and close. He lets out a growl, and his tongue sweeps out of his mouth to brush against the seam of my lips.
I shudder and open for him. His mouth is so hot as his tongue invades me. It’s longer than human and invades deep as it twines with mine in a completely new and unfamiliar way.
He wraps his other arm around my waist and pulls me against him and up his body until my feet leave the floor. I wrap my legs around his wide torso and cling to his shoulders. I’m certain he can hold my weight, but I need to ground myself.
The kiss goes on forever until my entire body is floaty and I’m burning up with desire. His hands don’t wander from his grip under my ass and on my neck, but he keeps me pressed tight against him.
My hands roam over his shoulders and down his arms. His skin is rough like leather and so warm. I’m whimpering into his mouth and desperate for more when he finally breaks the kiss.
“Not here,” Kallax says as he lowers me to the ground. He holds my waist as I get my feet steady beneath me.
“Huh?” My brain is still misfiring from the kiss and the heat running through my veins. I’m not capable of words or thought.
“The door, love.” Kallax reaches around me to lock the store door. “I don’t mind an audience but even I’m not willing to put on a show for all of main street.”
I look out the window. No one is there, but I can’t believe I got so caught up I didn’t even think about the fact we are in the store and anyone can see or walk in. Then I think about the fact I’m kissing a seven-foot-tall demon in full view of everyone.
“Oh, my god. What if someone sees you?” I shove him back toward the back room and out of view of the front windows. “You have to go!”
“No one in this town would blink an eye. I’m hardly the weirdest thing around here.” He might be right about that. I’ve definitely seen some weird things since I arrived, but what if he was wrong?
“I have work to do.” Kallax doesn’t budge as I push him backward toward the storage room, and I plant my feet and push harder. “You’re in my way. Please leave.”
The demon chuckles and wraps his arms around me. He hauls me off my feet again and presses a smacking kiss to my lips before setting me back down.
“As you wish. But this isn’t over.” Then he releases me, and in a plume of smoke, he’s gone.
I collapse against the counter and wonder what the heck I just got myself into.
Nearly five hours later, I let myself into Nonna’s house. Despite all of the work I’ve put into cleaning it, it’s still very much her house. I wonder if I’ll ever think of it as my own.
I drop my bags onto the counter and sink onto a stool at the island. My neck and shoulders ache, and my feet are sore, but I’m satisfied with the work I accomplished. Books have been ordered, and I rearranged the ones remaining to make the shelves look a little less bare.
I’m debating a bath when my stomach growls and reminds me I haven’t eaten anything but oatmeal and a pastry all day. I need food. And maybe a glass of wine. I can’t decide if it’s a celebratory wine or a sullen wine.
A part of me still feels bad about the finality of my father’s departure, but I shove it down. I won’t let his selfishness ruin my productive day. Celebratory wine and some pasta are just what the day ordered.
I put a pot on to boil before pulling a bottle of my favorite white out of the fridge and grab a wine glass. I pour myself a generous helping and take a drink. The cold, sparkling wine boosts my mood, and I decide to get a little fancy for dinner.
“Kallax, I swear to god if you poof this meal…” I grumble as I pull out the olive oil and a clove of garlic and get to work.
Thirty minutes later, I have garlic-alfredo pasta with a side of bruschetta. A part of me is disappointed when Kallax doesn’t appear, despite my warning. Though I’m glad to be able to eat my meal, I miss his company.
I set the table and turn on a playlist on my music app called Whimsical Witch. It’s a mix of instrumentals perfectly fitting my mood tonight. I sway along to the music as I plate my dinner.
Eating alone has never felt as lonely as it does now. Maybe it’s the come down after the confrontation with my father. Or the drop after the kiss with Kallax. But I feel a little bereft.
The hum of satisfaction when I got home is gone, and a wave of sadness settles in its place. Appetite lost, I push my plate away and finish my glass of wine.
