Page 8 of Clash
“Why her?”
“Because she reminds me of my mommy. She’s strong, and protective, just like her.”
“Who is your mommy protecting you from?”
Before Alex could answer, I fled down the stairs, interrupting their conversation. A fresh bucket of chicken sat on the table, along with a few side dishes that looked and smelled absolutely delicious.
“Wow, this smells great.”
Clash’s fork clattered to his plate, and I realized he was staring at me with hungry eyes.
“What?” I asked, horrified there was something wrong with me.
Clash shook his head, picking up his fork to eat again. His silence made me nervous, but I climbed into the chair beside him, watching Alex as he consumed his food like a ravenous wolf.
“Thank you for dinner, Chuck.”
“It’s Clash. Nobody calls me Chuck.”
The tiny sliver of anger that took over his tone had me recoiling and flinching away from him.
Instant regret passed through his eyes, and his gruff stance waned a bit. “Sorry, I’m just a little touchy about my name.”
“Then why did you tell me it in the first place?”
He looked perplexed, like he didn’t understand it himself. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
Alex grinned as he dug into his mashed potatoes. “Mashed potatoes are my favorite,” he said, stuffing his face.
“Mine too,” Clash agreed, taking a bite of the starchy morsel as well. “But I don’t like the gravy,” he added.
“Mommy says that you should always try new things. Your tastebuds will thank you for it.”
Clash shook his head. “I’ve had it before, bud. I just don’t like it.”
“More for me then,” Alex mumbled through a mouth full of food. “Mommy, eat. You haven’t eaten in three days.”
I could feel Clash’s heated gaze, but I ignored it, refusing to let him know how much he affected me. I took a few bites of food, but it did the opposite of make me feel good, it made my stomach coil and riot against me.
His heated breath hit my neck as he leaned in. “Take small bites, it will help offset the nausea you must be feeling.”
Surprised that he could read my expression like that, I took another bite of food, my stomach still queasy, but I wasn’t sure if that was because of my lack of sustenance, or the butterflies that were currently running amok inside of me.
“By the way,” he whispered again. “You clean up well. My clothes look good on you.”
Our eyes met for the briefest of seconds, but I shook the attraction out of my brain. I couldn’t allow myself to fall for him, not when there was so much he’d never understand about my life.
Goosebumps peppered my skin as his heated breath caressed the nape of my neck. “But they’d look even better on my floor,” he whispered, sending erotic waves of lustful shock through my body.
Shit! I need to get out of here before it’s too late.
4
The cutest little blush invaded her cheeks as I slowly pulled away. When I said she cleaned up nice, I wasn’t joking. The woman was drop dead fucking gorgeous! Long brunette hair, no longer matted and tattered from lack of care, hung wet down her back, stretching to at least the small of her waist. She had these damn pretty eyes that were like a slate grey, reminding me of a newly paved street, with the tiniest specks of ice blue mixed within them. Her figure wasn’t exactly skinny, but damn, the curves on her were to die for. I found myself wondering what it would be like to run my hands over them. She should come with a warning sign:
Warning: Dangerous Curves Ahead.
Shaking the lustful thoughts from my brain, I turned my focus back on the kid who was gobbling up my food like it was the only thing he’d ever eaten. He doesn’t look like his mother much. There are a few of her features, like her button nose and impish smile that seem to be from her DNA, but I’m guessing the kid looks a lot like his father. His skin has an olive tint to it, somewhat Mediterranean, and unkempt dark, jet-black hair that has a slight curl and sits on his head like a mop. He’s way tooskinny for his age, and definitely needed to get some meat on his bones. But then again, he does have her eyes. The same eyes that I couldn’t seem to break away from.
