Chapter 11 Devon #2
Kairo adds a few drops of vanilla to the drink.
Then, as he pours the hot chocolate into two round mugs, one with a snowman that he presses into my hand and one with a Santa for himself, I fill him in on drinks with the girls, the asshole bouncer, and my dead phone leading to my aimless wandering.
“I’m glad I came across you when I did,” Kairo says as he sits in the middle of one of his vast couches in front of the roaring firepit.
I sit on the couch opposite him so the flames are between us and lean forward, curious. “This is real fire?”
“Mmhmm.”
“But it’s blue.”
“It’s perfectly safe. It’s all a trick of the light. You can choose any color.”
“Wow.” Leaning back, I sink into the plush cushions that hold me close and pillows that create the most comfortable seat I’ve ever had.
“Honestly… I’m glad you found me too. I have no idea how I was going to get home.”
“No backup plan?” His eyes lock onto mine across the fire and I watch the flames dance in his gorgeous eyes.
With the windows darkened, the noise of the storm a distant thought, and the warmth of the fireplace swallowing other light, it suddenly feels like we’re the only two people in the world.
“No. I mean, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, so I didn’t charge my phone like I normally do, and I didn’t bring cash for a cab because my card is contactless through my phone.”
Laughing softly, I blow on my drink and then savor the chocolatey sweetness of the drink.
“Understandable. I’m the same.” He chuckles. “I hope you don’t mind that I touched your phone. It didn’t light up when I was gathering your clothes for the washer, so I set it on the charge pad.”
“I don’t mind, thank you. You think of everything, huh?”
His brow dips faintly. “How do you mean?”
“A towel for my hair, a charger for my phone, hot chocolate to warm me up inside after the bath…”
Kairo looks adorably confused, but there’s a flicker of sadness in his eyes when he speaks. “Is being cared for strange to you?”
His question catches me off guard and my lips part, but no words come out.
His actions feel like a lot, but is it really normal?
Am I so ruined by Axel that the concept of simple, decent care feels insane to me?
I can’t think what to say and Kairo’s smile softens.
“Perhaps it is too much. It’s in my nature, I think. I take care of my mother a lot when she’s… unwell.”
I get the distinct impression he chose that word carefully.
“But if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, then please don’t be afraid to tell me.” He speaks earnestly, and despite the pull I feel toward him, the alarms rise in my mind.
I’ve been tricked by sweet words before.
Is it cruel to paint Kairo with the same brush as Axel?
They’re as different as night and day, and yet the fear implanted in me just won’t leave me alone.
I look at Kairo and every lick of desire that curls around my heart is chased by the rampant possibilities of danger.
“You haven’t. If anything, you’ve been overly attentive.”
“For your enemy,” he teases.
“Exactly. This is warfare I can get behind, though. All that’s missing is snow outside and a Christmas tree in the corner and we have the perfect battlefield.”
Kairo’s gaze flicks to the far corner of the room and the corners of his mouth turn down faintly. “Indeed.”
As I drink, a deep tiredness starts to rise inside me, but I find myself wanting to stay awake and keep talking.
Kairo’s voice resonates through me like a gentle vibration as he explains why he was out in New York for so long.
I never thought I would be so interested in boring meetings until Kairo started talking.
I drink and I listen until a shiver steals across me and I groan.
I blink and Kairo’s on his feet, walking toward me with a blanket in hand.
“Here,” he says gently as he stands over me and unfurls the fabric. “This will help.”
He’s so tall.
Insanely tall.
He’s like a god that’s fallen from the stars and I can’t stop staring at how the fluffy softness of his hair makes him look utterly adorable.
“I’m going to drape this over your lap. Is that okay?”
I’m dragged from my admiration by his question. Is he asking permission to come in contact with me?
I gaze up at him in wonder.
The fire behind him darkens his entire form as he waits for my answer, but instead of intimidation, there’s nothing but comfort in his eyes.
“Yeah,” I say hoarsely, unable to think of anything else.
Kairo leans forward and down, draping the blanket over my lap and around my waist.
As he tucks it in, he leans so close that I can see a few freckles across his face, so I track them like a dot-to-dot with my eyes.
His touch to my legs as he tucks the blanket in is very light and brief, but then he hovers before me and locks eyes with me.
“Do you need any painkillers or anything for your arm?”
My pulse begins to race and my mouth runs dry.
He’s so close I can smell him, and it makes my mouth water.
I ache to run my fingers through his hair and see if it’s as soft as it looks.
I could even grab that necklace and use it to pull him closer for a taste of those lips that I only have a fleeting, drunken memory of.
As if he can hear me, Kairo’s teeth suddenly lightly dig into his lower lip and his eyes dart down to my own mouth.
Kissing him sounds irresistible and my fingers ache from the suppressed urge to reach out for him.
But I can’t.
While drunk, I was someone else. But here?
I’m still Devon, and the shadows that claw at my heart keep me rooted to the spot and my arm firmly in my lap.
“No,” I reply weakly. “I have some in my bag.”
“Alright.” He smiles a sweet, dazzling smile that makes my stomach somersault and then returns to his spot on the couch.
The air around me feels cold without him so I cuddle into the blanket.
Our conversation turns to Thanksgiving, which is around the corner, and our favorite things to eat.
One minute, I’m listening to Kairo’s deep, warm voice detail an argument with his chef over his desire for chicken at Thanksgiving because he doesn’t like turkey, and the next, I’m slowly opening my eyes to sunlight pouring through an unfamiliar window.
I blink and squint, trying to place the window in my mind and the gorgeous blue sky that stretches beyond it, but all I know is that this isn’t my window.
My heart jumps and I bolt upright.
I’m in Kairo’s bed.
And it’s morning.
How did I get here?
Rubbing my eyes, I try to remember how I made it here.
My last foggy memory was feeling so tired listening to Kairo talk and then the warmth of his arms around me. Or was that a dream?
What happened?
My phone lights up on the bedside table with a notification from my email, a junk mail that slipped past the security, and I sigh deeply—then it hits me.
Bacon. Waffles. Something sweet.
The scent of food hits me so hard that my stomach aches, and it draws me out of bed as if I’m being led by a gentle, invisible hand.
After cleaning myself up in the bathroom, I pad back downstairs while stifling a yawn.
Oops. I didn’t even check what time it was.
A blanket and several pillows rest on the couch as I pass. Did Kairo sleep down here?
He’s in the kitchen looking much more like himself, wearing black slacks and a light blue shirt that’s open at the top, revealing an enticing glimpse of his bare chest.
A frying pan sizzles on the stove while Kairo busies himself with the coffee pot.
As he turns, he spots me and the smile he gives me makes my heart melt.
I can’t keep crushing on him, but he’s so hard to resist.
“Good morning, did you sleep well?”
“I think so.” Perching on one of the stools at the island counter, I rub my eyes. “I don’t even remember falling asleep.”
“You were out pretty fast and then I couldn’t wake you, so I carried you to bed. I hope that’s alright.”
There’s a touch of concern in his tone as he sets a white cup down in front of me. “Coffee?”
I’m still stuck on him carrying me to bed and I missed it.
How tired was I?
“Just black, please,” I reply with a smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You’re my guest, and guests don’t sleep on the couch,” he replies. “Hungry? I’ve got scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and waffles. Or I have fruit and cereal if you prefer?”
“Can I have bacon?”
Never has a man cooked for me before, and there’s something so sweetly domestic about watching Kairo move about this kitchen.
“Sure thing.”
I think I’m still dreaming.
As he pours me coffee, I study his thick forearm and the long vein that curves around it.
Following it with my eyes gives rise to the strongest urge to drag my tongue along it, so I jerk my gaze away.
“Oh, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Mmhmm?” Kairo sets the coffee pot down.
“Yesterday, you said you had been trying to reach me about something for us to talk about?”
I need something to distract me from Kairo and there’s nothing better than a dose of reality. “Was it about the bakery?”