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Thankfully, when we got to the kitchen, Anastasia was in there alone.
“Did those bastards leave you to do everything yourself?” Tatum asked.
Anastasia flashed her a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She felt bad about everything.
So did I.
I would never let myself make another wicked plan again. Evil and I were clearly incompatible.
We all grabbed a recipe and got to work. Anastasia turned some Christmas music on to try to lift the mood while we cooked.
Tatum and Miles kept the conversation moving even though Anastasia and I didn’t say a whole lot.
An hour later,all four of the guys came in through the door, one after another. Bash was the last inside, and I turned away from him, squeezing my eyes shut and letting the stand mixer in front of me run longer than I probably should’ve.
The whipped cream was going to beextrawhipped.
The mixer shut off, and a pair of massive hands landed on my hips.
I froze.
My eyes stayed shut.
Lips brushed my ear. “We need to talk, Brynlee.”
Shit.
“I’m busy.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“We can talk later,” I whispered.
“We can talknow.” He dragged me back a few steps, and I had to open my eyes to see where I was going.
“Deal with the whipped cream, Rafe,” Bash said. It wasn’t an order… but it was.
Rafe saluted him as Bash continued walking me backward, until we were free of the kitchen and everyone in it. Then, he turned us both. His hands remained on my hips as he walked me toward the stairs, his front brushing my back as we moved.
A lump stayed in my throat all the way to the spare room that was intended to be mine, but only held Sebastian’s things.
He sat me on the edge of the bed before he finally released my hips and stepped back. His gaze was intense, and moved over me slowly, as if he was making sure I was alright.
Or debating the best way to kill me.
Or maybe, trying to decide where he wanted to taste me next.
My cheeks pinkened at the idea, though I knew the first option was more likely than the latter two.
“You changed your dress,” he said.
That was a much easier topic than the one I’d expected.
“There was blood on it.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Yourblood.” I gestured toward his abdomen, where I could see a massive blood splotch on his white button-down, thanks to his suit being undone. He was probably bleeding in other places, too.
