Chapter 6 Kai Kissed Me #2
I should be annoyed. Furious, even. But instead, I find myself just…
watching her. The way her hips move to the beat, her teasing sway drawing my attention like a magnet.
Her hair’s in a messy bun, exposing the pale curve of her neck.
Smooth skin dotted with faint freckles I suddenly want to map with my lips.
My thoughts derail further, unbidden and far too vivid.
I imagine that same skin reddening under my touch, her cheeks flushed, her body arching beneath me—
No. Stop.
I grit my teeth and push the thoughts down where they belong. This is why I need distance. She’s too tempting. Too disruptive.
Without thinking, I walk up behind her and pluck the plates out of her hands. She shrieks, spinning around with wide eyes and a hand clutching her chest.
“What the fuck, Kai?” she snaps. “What did I say about sneaking up on me!?”
I shrug, carrying the plates to the small dining table tucked in the corner of the kitchen. It’s barely big enough for two, but it does the job. “You called for me,” I say over my shoulder, keeping my tone casual as I slide the plates onto the table and put some much-needed space between us.
Tess follows, sliding into the chair opposite me. Her eyes are locked on me, brows raised, and I can practically feel her expectation hanging in the air.
“What?” I ask.
“Try it!” she demands, practically bouncing in her seat.
“I’m going to.” I take a cautious bite, half-expecting her to have somehow poisoned me by accident.
The moment the flavours hit my tongue, my scepticism dissolves. The rich, creamy blend dances across my taste buds, and before I can stop myself, a low, appreciative groan escapes my throat.
Her eyes light up, equal parts excitement and nervousness. “Well? Do you like it?”
I nod, swallowing another bite. “It’s delicious, Tess. Eat.” I gesture toward her plate, which she seems to have forgotten in her anticipation.
She beams at the praise, diving into her own meal with gusto. I watch her for a moment longer before focusing back on my food, wondering—yet again—why the hell I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting more of her.
“How are you feeling now?” I ask, slightly hesitant for the answer and already cursing myself for initiating a conversation with the world’s biggest chatterbox.
“I’m okay,” she replies, then frowns. “Well, I’m not fine. Everything’s… fucked. I don’t really know what the fuck I’m supposed to be feeling.”
I nod, understanding. “You feel like your life’s spiralling out of control.” I know how that feels.
She points her fork at me, swallowing her mouthful before speaking. “Exactly. Except I’m not sure I had much control to begin with. My life’s kind of… a mess, I guess.”
Before I can ask her to explain (which I wasn’t planning on doing), she starts rambling.
“I think I’ve just been coasting through life, you know?
I work a shitty job that has nothing to do with my interests because it’s easier than being a responsible adult.
I live in a tiny flat with mould on the walls, and I don’t really have any hobbies.
I’m almost thirty—and what do I have to show for it? ”
Did I suddenly earn a doctorate in psychotherapy? Is there a flashing sign over my head that reads: This guy loves chit-chatting?
Tess takes a breath. “Do you think I’m reacting wrong to all this murder business?”
Didn’t realise I was signing up for a TED Talk when I asked if she was okay.
I shrug, already wanting to get back to my computers. “You’ve been pretty calm, but I don’t think there’s a wrong way to deal with it.”
“I just don’t really feel guilty about it.
The more I think about my relationship with Jake, the more I wonder why I was even dating him.
I think I was just bored. He was attractive…
ish.” Jealousy burns in my chest, unwelcome and completely irrational.
But it wasn’t serious. It’s not like I was planning to marry the guy.
And the sex was”—please don’t say good, please don’t say good—“mediocre at best. Thank fuck.
No. Why am I thankful? I’m not interested.
“I should feel guilty though, right? I killed a man.”
“He was planning to kill you,” I offer.
Her eyes blaze angrily. “He was!”
“So maybe that’s why you don’t feel guilt. But that doesn’t mean you don’t feel anything.”
I rub my temples, wondering when my quiet dinners alone will return. Why am I engaging in this conversation? Oh yeah. Because for some reason I like the sound of her voice.
“I feel… panicked. I’m nervous that I’ll be caught. And I’m scared because someone broke into my flat and I don’t understand why and what if they found evidence that they can use against me?”
I clench my jaw, forcing a neutral expression instead of the exasperation coursing through me. “Don’t worry about the break-in. I’m handling it.”
She narrows her eyes. “Handling how?”
I wave a hand, pushing away from the table. “Let me worry about it.”
After dinner, we tackle the disaster zone together.
I wash; she dries. It’s oddly seamless, as if we’ve done this a hundred times before.
There’s a strange kind of ease in the moment, the silence punctuated by the clinking of dishes and her occasional hum of the song still playing softly in the background. It feels very… domestic.
Too domestic.
“Tess,” I say, my voice sharper than intended. She pauses mid-reach for a dish, glancing at me.
“Yeah?”
I dry my hands on a towel, avoiding her gaze as I lean against the counter. “About earlier. When I kissed you…”
Her expression changes at my words, or my tone, and the light dimming from her eyes makes me want to take them back. “What about it?”
“It was a mistake.” The words are heavy on my tongue, but I push through. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
She studies me for a moment, then goes back to drying. “Okay.”
Um. What?
“Okay?”
“Yep. If that’s how you feel, then okay. Let’s not make things weird.” She doesn’t look at me as she speaks.
“Well. Good.”
Why is her easy acceptance so painful?
“It’s not that I don’t find you attractive. I do—fuck, I really do.” Am I rambling? “I just… I don’t do relationships. And you just got out of one. Sort of. It’s too messy.”
Christ. Shut up.
I take the opportunity to step away, to put distance between us before I do something stupid—again.
“Thanks for dinner,” I say, my voice quieter now, more controlled. “Get some rest. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
“Night, Kai.”
I don’t reply, just turn on my heel and bolt up the stairs like my ass is on fire.