Chapter 8 House Rules （Kane） #2
“A police report? Really?”
“Better to have something on record in case it happens again.”
“Hmm. Doesn’t that seem…” She shrugs. “Just a little like overkill? I dunno, what if it was just a drunk camper who strayed too far or some local kids screwing around?”
“Then the cops will know it’s a camper or some little hellraisers.
If it is, they probably came stomping around other people’s properties, so we’d be doing a community service.
” I hold up the lantern again. “Hate to say it, but this doesn’t strike me as a wandering drunk.
Somebody made this thing carefully so they could prowl around without being seen. The glass really dims the light.”
“But who?”
I shake my head slowly. “Your guess is as good as mine. But I damn sure intend to find out.”
She sighs and her shoulders slump as she sits on the edge of the bed.
“God, I’m glad I wasn’t here alone,” she says. “And you’re right, filing a report might make sense. Just in case they come back.”
“Exactly.” I crush the protective feeling that rises when I see her hunched over like this, a small sparrow of a woman seeking shelter. “I don’t want this rattling you more than it has. If you’re not okay, you tell me.”
“Just shocked, I think. If someone was watching me…” She trails off and holds out her hands, examining her nails. Her fingers are trembling. “The Babins were being weird, too.”
“That’s where you went? Their place?”
She nods.
“I said I’d drop by, and it seemed like as good a time as any.” She glances at me, then looks away quickly. “But they just felt overeager or something. I knew they wanted to buy the place, but they were super strange about it. Too enthusiastic. A little snippy. I dunno, it’s hard to explain.”
I drop into a chair next to the bed, facing her until she looks at me. My mind works, wondering if they would’ve had time to sneak over here after she left.
They could have associates, too. Someone told to come snooping while they knew she was occupied.
“Try me,” I say.
“Um, well.” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
I force myself not to think about the way it felt like silk when I kissed her, just like her skin.
“It’s like they wanted to hide how desperate they are for me to sell.
They were pretty open about needing some leeway with financing, too.
But it also felt like they wanted all their cards on the table. ”
I feel the hair on the back of my neck rise, thinking back to when they dropped by the house.
I didn’t think much of them then, when I was more annoyed by Margot than anything else.
They seemed like your average overly friendly, slightly eccentric rural folk who’ve lived in the sticks for too long without much socializing with strangers.
I lean forward, my forearms braced on my legs.
Margot’s gaze darts over me before it settles on the floor.
“Why do you think they’re so interested?” I ask. “Do they want the house or the land?”
“The land for sure.” She sucks her lip as she thinks. “It just felt like they were trying too hard, y’know? A little too twitchy about the whole thing. I think they expected me to sign it over right there. It weirded me out, so I left.”
“You drove straight back here? How long were you parked outside?”
“Yeah, pretty much. My friend Hattie called and I was talking to her when I pulled in.” She runs her fingers along the duvet idly. “I don’t know how long I sat in the car. Ten minutes or so, maybe? It wasn’t a long conversation.”
Still, that’s enough time for either Babin or a sneaky friend to come creeping if they decided to go full psycho.
Why, who knows, but when she tells me something’s up with the Babins, I believe her. The timing feels suspect as hell.
I’ve never been a big believer in coincidences.
“I’ll keep an eye on them,” I promise, leaning back in the chair. “Also, we should talk to other folks in town. Find out more about the history, if your grandfather ever left anybody with hard feelings.”
“It shouldn’t take too long with the gossip train here. The Babins knew we went to the hardware store.” She blushes.
“We’ll be careful. Last thing we need is them suspecting anything.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. There’s a shy tilt to her thin smile I haven’t seen before. “Uh, so, about earlier…”
Earlier.
The kiss.
The attic fuckery, hot and heady and hungry.
Her lips on mine, stirring a thirst that had me kissing her back like I wanted her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“That was a fuckup, duchess. All mine,” I growl before I remember how good she tasted.
“Well, yeah, but that’s not fair.” She tucks her hands under her thighs. “Technically I kissed you. Remember?”
I wish to Almighty God I didn’t.
“You wouldn’t have done it if I’d kept my distance. That was my fault, and I don’t mean breaking your fall.”
The moment I caught her, I should’ve set her down and stepped back.
My hesitation cost us dearly.
“So what? You think that means I have no autonomy?” She cocks her head, her hair spilling across her shoulder. “A girl can’t make her own choices? She’s just helplessly dick-matized by the amazing Kane Saint?”
I snort loudly.
“I wasn’t thinking. I invited trouble,” I tell her. “It’s been a long damn time since I shared a space with a woman.”
Her blue eyes flare.
I have to look away before she starts asking too many questions.
Hell, before I’m tempted to answer them.
“We lost our heads. That’s it. Doesn’t have to be more complicated,” I finish, nodding for emphasis. “We were overwhelmed. It was a long-ass day, and—”
And her body was pure velvet against mine.
So inviting, calling my hands to every curve.
If she hadn’t put her mouth on mine, I might’ve erupted anyway.
I might’ve grabbed her bottom lip with my teeth and thieved every moan.
Her jumping me, that was a relief, if I’m brutally honest.
But it calcified my brain like an expired orange.
I can’t forget that.
She’s nodding with almost as much irritation.
“Never again,” she whispers.
“Never.”
Then she smiles, a little awkwardly, and looks out the window, into the night. But instead of stepping back and giving her space, my eyes stay glued to her.
The way her lips purse, the shyness on her face, the wicked thoughts that must be swirling in her head.
Margot Blackthorn isn’t innocent or introverted, but there’s hesitation there now.
And it’s fucking adorable.
Same for the way she glances at me, a little too fast, like she wasn’t expecting to find me watching her.
Damn.
But I’m a man who learns his lessons, and it’s time to fucking go. I stand up.
No more getting deep in her business, helping her look for whatever it is her gramps left behind now that we’ve scoured the attic. I’m sure she can reach the other places in the house.
No more getting too close.
No fucking more fantasizing about ripping her clothes off while I take my teeth to her skin, marking her from head to toe.
Good luck.
Not sure I can control that one when she’s around, looking like a wet dream made flesh, but I can try.
And if sharing an isolated house with a beautiful woman and only occasionally getting hard to dirty thoughts about her is the worst of it, that’s a victory.
As long as it doesn’t become reality.
From the relief in her eyes, she knows it, too.
We don’t need to drag this out when we’re on the same page.
Dan almost walking in on us mid-kiss was the wake-up call we needed.
“All right, I have some reading to do,” I say, jerking my thumb at the door and stepping back. She nods. “I left you a plate. You can heat it up later if you want.”
“Again?” Her confusion melts into something warmer. “Dude, you have to stop doing that.”
“What? Leaving you to starve for no good reason when we always have leftovers?”
“No,” she says, still a little soft, a little gentle. “Taking care of me, I mean.”
Oh, that.
That’s one more sign I really am the idiot who’s making this so hard.
Keeping her fed isn’t putting distance between us, is it?
And even if that’s another fucking fumble, even if I’m making our lives more intimate than they should be, we both know I’m not stopping.
Not as long as we’re under one roof, two prisoners to our own depraved desires.