Chapter 14
Kat
I pressed my fingers to my lips and watched as he left the room and quietly closed the door behind him. My heart was racing for more reasons than one, and mostly had to do with the kiss and not the nightmare.
I lied when I said that I didn’t remember it. I always remembered it simply because it was the same one that I always had. Mind you, it had been a long time since I’d dreamt about the night that Xavier attacked me, a year or more, but the pain in my leg must have triggered it.
With a sigh, I adjust the pillow under my leg, then punch the one for my head before laying down. I then think of more pleasant things, like kittens and puppies. It usually works in calming me down, enough for me to fall back to sleep, but not this time. This time, all I can think about is Rory and how his body pressed against mine, his hand on my breast, still has me tingling between my thighs. I turn over with a groan of frustration and grab my phone. It’s 2 am, and I debate on calling Derek but think better of it. I really have nothing to tell him other than about my leg, and he will of course try to convince me it’s a good idea to get romantically involved with Rory. Not gonna happen.
With a sigh, I whip the covers back and reach for my crutches. I stand and tuck them under my arms and make my way to the bathroom. After, while washing my hands, my stomach starts growling, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning before the beach.
As I hobble down the stairs, a sudden noise from the kitchen freezes me in my tracks. It sounded like glasses clinking together. My heart thunders in my chest as I grip the crutches tighter, adrenaline flooding my veins. Quietly, I inch my way into the room and peek around the cabinet.
My breath catches in my throat when I see a shadowy figure standing by the sink, their hand reaching towards the knife block on the counter. Without thinking, I throw one of my crutches at them, and they yowl in pain as it hits their forearm.
“Sonofafuckingbitch Kat! Are you trying to kill me?”
“Rory?!” I smack the light switch and light floods under the cupboards. “What the hell are you doing?!”
“I was making a sandwich for us, I thought you might be hungry,” he said, rubbing his arm.
I look at him, suspicion clearly on my face. “In the dark?”
“It’s a full moon,” he pointed to the skylight above him.
I couldn’t help but notice how the soft light illuminated his features, casting shadows that made him appear both mysterious and sexy as hell. Despite thinking someone was about to kill the whole household, I found myself melting a little at his thoughtfulness.
I leaned against the island, his attempt at making a late-night sandwich for me was undeniably thoughtful and sweet. But what was his motive?
“I’m sorry for throwing my crutch at you,” I mumbled, sitting on a stool.
“It’s fine. I would have done the same thing. You like turkey breast?” he asked, cutting the sandwiches in half.
“I do.”
“Good,” he said, handing me the crutch I threw at him. “Why don’t you make your way to the living room? I have the fire going in there, because I can’t sleep either. I’ll follow you shortly.”
Without a word, I make my way through the kitchen to the dining room and out to the living room. I was relieved. It would be more comfortable than the stool and less intimidating than my bedroom. Grunting at the pulling sensation in my thigh, I plopped down and sat there. I prayed the pain would ease up as I watched the flames dance in the fireplace.
He comes in carrying a tray with two sandwiches and a plate of fresh veggies with chunks of cheddar cheese. He sets it on the coffee table and drags it close.
Picking up one, he takes a bite and motions towards the food. “Help yourself.”
I did, and bit into the taste of heaven. Impressed with his sandwich making skills, between bites, I commented, “This is really good!”
He nods and wipes his mouth with his hand. “It’s the Dijon mustard and mayo that does the trick.” He picks up the plate, laden with the vegetables and holds it towards me. “Veggies?”
I took a few and smiled my thanks as he set the plate between us and said, “In case you want more.”
“This is quite the spread you’ve put together,” I remarked between bites, feeling a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the fire crackling in front of us. As we ate in silence, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something unspoken hanging in the air between us. We hated each other, didn’t we?
After we finished eating, he cleared the plates and sat back on the couch, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. I fidgeted with my hands for a moment before mustering up the courage to break the silence.
“I have to ask... why did you really make me food?” I blurted out, surprising even myself. His eyes met mine, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before he sighed and leaned back.
He shrugged. “I figured you must be hungry. And seeing you sleep most of the day away after the shot that doc gave you, I took a chance that you wouldn’t be going back to sleep right away.”
A thought just occurred to me. “Did you spit on my sandwich?”
I wolfed it down so fast, it’s not like I would have noticed it.
“What? No, I didn’t spit on it!”
He seemed offended that I would suggest such a thing.
“Did you poison me?”
He sat up and looked back at me. “Why the fuck would I poison you?”
I see that question upset him. I lifted a shoulder in indifference. “I don’t trust men. And we don’t like each other all that much, that’s evident, and you’re not too keen on me being here. So yeah. Did you poison my sandwich?”
“Woman, I didn't say I hated you. You just drive me fucking crazy in a very distracting way.” He sunk back against the couch and looked at me. Lowering his voice he said, “Why would I poison the woman that makes my dick harder than —”
“You made your point.” I pushed against the couch, attempting to stand, trying to calm my racing heart at his last admission.
But as soon as I did, his hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist, my pulse raced, and my body reacted. His cocky grin was back, and it did something to me - something primal that I couldn’t resist.
“What do you want?” he asked with a challenge in his voice.
“Don’t play coy with me.” I was done pussy footing around and purred, “You know exactly what I want.”
The look in his eyes made me shiver. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” he growled out.
I nodded, biting my lower lip, my breath catching in anticipation. “Yes, sir.”
We were inches apart now; our bodies heat mingling into an erotic haze. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me closer, his other hand gripping the waistband of my panties and started pulling them over my hips. His eyes roamed over my satin nightshirt before meeting mine once more as he pulled them clear off me only to toss them aside.
“You’re a brat. We can’t do this here,” He murmured lowly against my lips before crushing them against mine, roughly taking control of the kiss.
His tongue invaded deep, pushing past my lips, teasing and taunting while his hands slipped beneath my legs, scooping me up.
How he did it, I have no idea, but he carried me all the way to my bedroom, kissing me the whole time. Not missing a beat, he kicked the door closed and went straight over to the bed, laying me down on it before stretching out beside me.
As he loomed over me, the room felt like it was electrified, but I knew it was just him. His touch was both commanding and intoxicating, sending a thrill down my spine.
His eyes darkened with intensity. “I hope you’re ready for what’s to come, vixen,” he whispered huskily, his breath warm against my skin.