Page 44 of Deal with the Devil

Without another word, he breaks contact, moves to the fridge and pulls out a beer. He cracks the topand leaves me in the kitchen. Next thing I hear is the T.V. flicking on.

I release a shuddering breath as I slump against the counter, startling when the kettle beeps behind me. Even though I know I should take my tea to bed, because I’m exhausted down to the bone, I pad to the living room with Kane. The only light is the glow from the television, and as I cast my gaze to the chair where I usually sit, I find I don’t want to sit there. I want to sit by the big man who makes me feel safe. So, I do.

Without saying a word, I snuggle in close to Kane like a real would-be-wife. And like a real husband, he wordlessly pulls me even closer, leaving his arm around my shoulders as we settle in to watch…

“Is thisThe Witcher?”

“I’ve heard good things.”

“You’ve heard correct.”

He lifts a brow. “You’ve seen it?”

I nod, and he reaches for the remote. “We’ll watch something else.”

“No. I love this show. Besides, Henry Cavill is worth watching again. And again.”

Kane frowns at me. “You think he’s hot?”

“Every woman thinks he’s hot.” I sigh dreamily at the screen. “Look at him.”

From my periphery, I see he does look at him. Then he scowls. Then he turns that scowl on me. “We’re watching something else.”

“Hey!” I grab for the remote but catch his wrist instead. “No. I like this show.”

“I don’t want to sit here while you lust after another man.”

I snort a laugh. “I’m not lusting after him. I’m appreciating the work of art that he is. Besides, you’ll get plenty of your own candy, have no fear.”

His scowl doesn’t shift, but he tosses the remote to the side as he mutters, “I have all the sweet I can handle.”

I beam at him. “You think I’m sweet?”

“Sweet and sticky. Like toasted marshmallow and caramel cream.”

I feel both brows climb high. “That’s creative.”

He shrugs and we settle in to watch the first scene ofThe Witcher. I try not to let my drool betooobvious, which really isn’tthathard because the first scene isn’t exactly pretty. Still, Kane’s scowl doesn’t shift as he watches the sexy man on screen battle a monster.

When I finally finish with my tea, Kane takes my cup and his empty beer and sets them on the coffee table before leaning back again. This time, he takes my legs and pulls them over his so I’m partially sitting in his lap, and then I feel his hand creep slowly up the cuff of my pant leg, his fingertips moving in soft circles against my leg. His touch feels like heaven. It’s in no way sexual, but it alights me anyway. I think this mancould hold my hand and turn me on. Any contact with him sets me on fire.

I honestly don’t get it.

In past relationships, I was for the sex, but not overcome with the need for it. Rarely did I initiate out of desire, but more out of obligation I’m confident I hid well. With Kane, if we slipped and fell into sex against all better judgement, I don’t think I could easily refrain from relapsing again and again.

Midway through episode one, Kane says, “I’m scheduled to perform tomorrow night.”

I straighten. “Okay.”

Kane has performed a few times since I’ve lived with him. Lucky for me, they’d just returned from a tour before I’d thrown myself at him in the club, changing the trajectory of both our lives. So, he hasn’t had to perform a whole lot, but since their album is recently new and they’re still pushing it heavily, they’ve done a few events—all of which I’d stayed home for.

“I’m not comfortable leaving you here without me.”

“Oh.”

“After tonight—” He wipes a hand roughly down his face. “The thought of that fucker finding you and me not being here?—”

“I can come.”

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