Chapter 15 #2
Heat floods my face instantly. I want to crawl into the nearest pantry or cupboard and die. Meanwhile, Rachel is practically vibrating with joy, her smile is nice and smug as she shoots me a wink.
“You’re welcome,” she mouths.
I level a glare at her that promises death.
“The answer is still no, Rachel,” I mutter, trying to ignore the urge to throw something at her.
She just laughs harder, flipping her hair over her shoulder like she’s done me the biggest favor in the world. “What? The tension in here is going to fry all our brains, and I’m way too hot to die!”
Cam shakes his head, already checked out of this conversation. “Don’t look at me.” He says, hands raised in surrender. “I'm not getting involved.”
Kane is still standing way too close for comfort, his presence presses against my senses, making the heat in the room feel a little too real. I'm starting to get sweaty.
“Still?” He whispers. That cocky, infuriating smirk firmly in place.
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my composure, and step around him. “It’s nothing personal. Don’t you worry, I'm sure there’s a lovely woman waiting for you in a basement somewhere.”
Rachel snorts, while Cam raises his brows, clearly confused. Kane, on the other hand, just stares at me, like he’s already won the invisible game we're not playing.
I glance around the room, making sure everyone knows I'm sticking to my plans. “I am still swearing off all men. Nothing has changed. Everyone calm down. End of story.”
Rachel bites her lip, looking like she’s seconds away from outing me for something.
Cam leans casually against the counter with his arms crossed, fully invested in the show.
Meanwhile, my body is clearly having withdrawals from the lack of physical contact, reacting to the dumbest things, like Kane’s stupid smirk or the way he says my name.
It’s honestly embarrassing how deprived I feel.
Although Cam has been calling most of the shots, I've noticed the subtle glances he sends in Kane’s direction. And honestly? I get it. Kane commands attention.
Once we’re back to preparing dinner and not talking about my sex life, or the lack thereof, I don’t exactly volunteer the fact that I hate cooking. Instead, I just follow their lead, grateful someone else is taking charge.
Cam assigns Rachel and me the task of washing, peeling and cutting potatoes for the fries. Or rather, the chips. Apparently, we’re making homemade fish and chips.
Joke’s on him, I love fish and chips.
Kane moves around the kitchen like he owns the place. It’s hard not to sneak glances at him, though I try to keep it subtle. Every so often, despite the size of the kitchen, his shoulder brushes against mine when he walks by. And every time, a little spark rushes through me.
Thunder rumbles outside and occasional flashes of lightning cast shadows across the room, adding to the cozy atmosphere. The sound of the rain would be soothing, if not for the ridiculous tension thickening in the air around me.
While Rachel and I handle the potatoes, the guys prep the fish and set out sauces on the table. I’m busy focusing on cutting a lemon when Kane laughs at something Cam says. Instinctively, I pause to look over at him.
That laugh hits me like a gut punch. My grip on the knife loosens, and it almost clatters to the floor. Oh fuck. That was close.
Every time I see him let his guard down, it’s a direct hit to my self-control. Honestly, he’s straight-up bad news for my lady parts.
I have zero complaints about being on prep duty if it means I get to watch these two fry up our dinner looking like that.
I'm sure they’ve been cooking their whole lives by the way they move around the kitchen.
Well, Cam actually has, which works out great for me and my lack of cooking skills.
Kane, though? He hasn’t really said much about his childhood.
But right now, none of that matters, because watching his muscles flex while he works is… well, distracting enough. Unfairly so.
I bite my lip without realizing it and Rachel nudges me with her elbow, wearing a look I pray she won't voice. “You doing okay there? Need a napkin?”
“Shut up,” I whisper. Trying and failing to hide the blush creeping up my neck.
Of course that's the moment Kane looks over and catches me staring. One brow lifts and a slow, devastating smile tugs at his lips.
“Enjoying the view?”
My face flames as I snap my attention back to the lemon in front of me. “Just making sure you’re doing it right. I wouldn't want to get food poisoning.” The words come out way too fast, and I curse internally. FUCK. Of course, I’d get caught staring at him.
I can hear him laugh and Rachel loses it. “You’re hopeless.”
I shoot a glare in her direction but can’t help the smile trying to make an appearance. “NO BOYS!” I declare over the laughter, attempting to reinforce my very shaky stance.
Rachel rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. No boys. Except… well, you know.” She winks, and I want to crawl under the table.
Kane decides this is a good moment to chime in. “Good thing I’m not a boy.”
No, no he’s not. Boys don’t look like that. Or move like they were carved from temptation itself. And this man? He could ruin me with just a look, and I’d probably thank him for it.
Despite my resolve, my eyes betray me. I know I shouldn't look over, but when I do, he’s leaning against the counter watching me with a look that practically drips with amusement. Great.
That look happens to be the one that makes my pulse stutter and heat bloom across my skin. Staying here was a bad idea.
I quickly drop my gaze, pretending to clean up my mess, but I can still feel him watching me. Like he’s waiting for me to break first. Then, of course, he chuckles. Again.
Ass.
Cam walks over, probably to see if we’re actually being helpful. “You ladies go take a seat, we’ll get your drinks.”
Just as I start to pull out my chair, Kane’s voice rumbles from behind me, and I jump. It's husky enough to send an inconvenient shiver down my spine.
“Would you like some water, or can I get you something else?”
I clear my throat, snapping out of my wandering thoughts. “Water is great, but also… what exactly is something else?” I aim for light and playful, but my traitorous voice comes out softer than I intended. Like I'm trying to seduce him. Which I'm not. Obviously.
He doesn’t even give me a chance to respond, which is probably for the best, considering I'm momentarily speechless. My body, however, has zero shame. I'm starting to sweat. In lots of places.
I silently curse him for being so damn good-looking. And worse? For knowing it.
Rachel, of course, catches the entire exchange and nudges me hard enough to jolt me back to reality. “He’s totally into you,” she whispers, barely containing her grin.
I shoot her a desperate look, hoping she'll shove something in her mouth or talk about anything else, but she just winks. She's clearly enjoying my slow, inevitable unraveling. Meanwhile, Kane is still watching me.
My throat tightens and I can’t decide if I need water or a damn fire extinguisher.
“We’re just friends, Rach.” The words fall out, sharper than I meant.
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” She raises a brow, unconvinced. “Friends don't look at each other like that.”
I risk another glance at Kane, who’s casually making our drinks like he didn’t just reduce me to a puddle.
Staying here tonight was a very bad idea.
A moment later, he returns with two glasses of water, setting them down in front of us without a word. He disappears and comes right back with two more drinks.
Rachel takes a sip and her eyes widen in delight. “Okay, this is good,” she says, raising her glass in a toast to him.
I follow suit, taking a cautious sip. It's actually perfect. Not too sweet, but it has just enough bite to keep it interesting.
“Well, I had a lot of fun, and I'm genuinely shocked that you got Raven to cook,” Rachel teases, nudging me again. She knows exactly how I feel about cooking. It’s basically a running joke at this point.
She’s tried so many times to get me to make something, only for it to end in disaster.
“I’m counting this trip as a win! Miracles do happen. ”
“Wait, are you telling me you don’t like to cook either?” Cam looks horrified, maybe even a little offended. “I can tell you right now, if you hate cooking, it’s because you’ve had the wrong teacher, or you’re cooking the wrong dishes.”
I giggle, unable to stop myself. I'm blaming the drink. It’s just the right amount of strong, and I’m feeling a little more relaxed than usual
“Yeah, cooking has just never been my thing.” I admit. “And hold on, let’s be clear. I know how to cook some things. I’m not completely helpless. I’ve made it this far in life, so let’s not get it twisted.”
My gaze locks onto Kane and I hope he can see the challenge sparking in my eyes. “Do you know how to cook?”
Who am I kidding? He looks like he was bred for luxury. The way he moves, the way he carries himself, it all screams that he was raised with etiquette and fine dining lessons.
He’s a mystery wrapped in control and sharp edges, and some reckless part of me wants to dive in. Kane looks like he was born to be a National Treasure with that body.
Where’s Nicholas Cage, and where do I sign up?
“I happen to know how to cook quite well, thank you very much,” he murmurs, but his voice is laced with confidence. “I actually enjoy it. Although… I haven't really cooked like this in a long time.”
I blink, slightly thrown off by how at ease he looks. Actually, this is the most relaxed I've seen him since we met. His usual guarded intensity isn't there and for some reason, that makes my heart skip.
Rachel crosses her arms, throwing me a teasing look. “See? Even Kane can cook. Surely you can give it a whirl?”
Kane leans back in his chair, looking relaxed as ever. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Rachel waves him off. “Oh nothing! Just, you know… pretty boy and all…”
I can’t help but laugh while Rachel grins proudly. Kane just shakes his head, looking amused but not the least bit insulted.
We keep talking, laughing, and learning bits and pieces about each other. When it’s my turn to answer questions, I keep it vague while talking about my childhood. I steer clear of the… unconventional details.
While other kids were probably playing tag or hide-and-seek, I was learning how to punch and throw knives for fun. And honestly, how do you even bring that up?
“Hey, remember recess? Well, I was busy learning how to disarm someone in under ten seconds.”
Yeah, not exactly casual conversation.
Kane’s presence is both calming and stressful. It's an infuriating contradiction that leaves me teetering between fascination and frustration. Every time our eyes meet, a flutter of excitement rises in my chest. It's always uninvited, but undeniable.
It’s strange, being so drawn to someone I barely know while simultaneously being annoyed by him.
Throughout dinner, I catch him stealing glances when he thinks I'm not looking, and every subtle brush of his knee against mine under the table feels loaded. I try to act unaffected, but it’s impossible to ignore the heat creeping up my neck.
Every time I look up, he’s watching me with that same infuriatingly amused look.
“So, what about you, Kane? What did you grow up doing?” Rachel asks.
“My family believed in being well-rounded, so I learned a bit of everything."
The intensity in his gaze sends a chill through me. His eyes flicker over my face and down my body like he’s daring me to look away first.
I don’t.
Instead, I hold his stare. There’s something deeper there than the casual banter we’ve been tossing around all night.
My heart pounds against my ribs.
The room could disappear and I don’t think I’d notice.
I can feel heat pooling between my legs while my nipples tighten under my shirt. I have to fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling way too exposed.
Why does my body keep doing this to me? It's making me hyper-aware of every breath, every heartbeat, every inch of space between us. I swallow, trying to regain control, but the way he looks at me is like he’s fully aware of how my body is responding to him. Which I really hope isn’t the case.
Rachel’s voice slices through the tension like a cold gust of air, snapping me out of the heated trance I was caught in.
I blink, forcing myself to breathe as she suddenly stands and scoots her chair back.
“Alright, I'm calling it a night. Got a migraine.”
She glances between me and Kane, wearing a knowing smirk that I swear I'll kill her for later. Then she turns to me with a dramatic sigh. “Rave, I love you, but you snore. Tonight I want my own room. If you get scared, be quiet when you sneak in, yeah?”
I shoot her a look that screams what in the actual fuck, but she conveniently pretends not to notice, turning her attention to Cam instead.
Cam rises from his seat, his tall frame dwarfing hers as he stretches. “Yeah, I'm beat too. Tour Guide Cam has done his duty for the day.”
He claps his hands together before placing his hand on the small of Rachel’s back, guiding her toward the door.
“Better get going.”
Rachel gets migraines a lot, and when they hit, she’s out for days. If it’s a bad one, I don’t see her for weeks. Something always triggers it, and then she vanishes.
I’d be suspicious and think she was just making excuses if she didn’t actually look like she was suffering just now. Her face is pale, and I know that look all too well.
So as much as I want to investigate, I hold back.
“I'll show her to her room, since we’re going the same way.” Cam quickly ushers her toward the door.
Um… okay, that wasn't weird at all.
“Goodnight. Text me if you need anything… I guess. Love you,” I call after her.
“Love you. Make good choices. Don’t do anything I wouldn't do.” Rachel calls over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.
Which let's be real, that doesn’t narrow it down much. There’s not a lot she wouldn’t do.
I sit there for a moment, thrown off by their sudden departure. The room feels smaller now. Quieter.
“Well, I guess it’s just us, then." Kane leans in, resting his elbow on the table. “Unless you’re too chicken to be alone with me.”