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A carefree giggle bursts from me as Kyle twirls me outwards and spins me a few times before pulling me into his body once more. He places a quick kiss on my cheek that has the barest hint of pears and caramel slipping through the dampeners, blending together perfectly. “I find myself wanting to know everything about you, Verity. Tell me something you’re passionate about.”
I take a second to respond, then it hits me. “Books. In all shapes, forms, and sizes. Why do you do random push-ups?” A bewildered expression crosses his face, and I quickly elaborate. “They gave me a binder with random information about all the alphas.”
“My mom taught me the best way to expel nervous energy is through push-ups as a kid. I guess it stuck.”
“Fair enough.”
All too soon, he releases me. “I better get to work on these pancakes, so we’re not late for elimination.”
Kyle is a beast in the kitchen. He has a towering plate of fluffy pancakes cooked in no time. Reaching up, he grabs two ceramic plates from a rack and forks over three pancakes for me and the same for him.
I hold up the bottle of syrup. “Want some?”
He nods. “Shoot, douse them. I didn’t break a sweat heating these babies up for nothing. My efforts better result in something dripping because if not, it means I didn’t do it right.”
His words likely aren’t intended to be that dirty, but a spark of lust shoots straight to my lady bits. Kyle seems to pick up on the double entendre and his cheeks turn the slightest hint of red. “I like other things dripping too,” he blurts, and his eyes widen comically. “I mean, shit. Food, I mean food.”
“Mhm. Sure, Kyle. Suuure,” I rib playfully, dousing his pancakes until they’re dripping as he put it, but he ignores the delicious breakfast food in lieu of watching me, eyes darkened with lust.
My stomach rumbles loudly, and that snaps both of us out of it. “Eat, Peardrop. We don’t have a lot of time and there’s no way I’m letting you go hungry.”
“One sec,” I respond, grabbing the bottle of caramel drizzle I noticed earlier. I apply a hefty bit to my pancakes, and Kyle tilts his head at my choice of syrup and caramel. I can’t help it. The maple reminds me of Jedrik and the caramel Kyle. I need both flavors as much as I need some champagne, dark chocolate, and winter spices, but I don’t think those three would work too well on pancakes… or else I’d try.
Am I addicted to these men’s scents? Probably. Is it something I want to work on? Not even remotely.
“I thought you wanted something only kinda sweet?” There’s a teasing tone to his voice.
I shrug and give him a big grin. “I changed my mind.”
“I’ll give it a shot, too.” Kyle adds the same amount to his pancakes and then reaches for a bag of nuts, sprinkling a few over the top, while I cut off a piece of mine. “Wait,” he says, making me pause with a bite halfway to my mouth. He gestures for me to hand him my fork and he hands me his.
“I think we’re skipping a few steps here, Kyle,” I tease. He only smirks at me and raises the fork to my lips. I open wide and the flavors explode on my tongue. They’re perfectly fluffy too and I’m fairly sure I make a noise that belongs in the bedroom and not the kitchen. Okay, I’m down with kitchen sex, but definitely not with a camera pointed at us.
I’m too captivated by the deliciousness in my mouth and the color of Kyle’s eyes to notice I miss his mouth entirely and graze his cheek with drippy caramel syrup. “Oh! I’m so sorry,” I exclaim, but Kyle simply grabs a napkin and dabs the sticky substance off his cheek.
“Don’t worry about it, Peardrop.” He gestures toward my mouth, indicating I have something there, but before I can wipe it off myself, his thumb gathers the syrup. He promptly pops the digit in his mouth to lick it clean, and I imagine an entirely different scenario. One where that’s my slick on his finger instead of caramel syrup. Did it get hotter in here or is it only me?
The air crackles between us as Kyle and I have a sort of mini stare off. It’s like I can imagine all the dirty thoughts floating through his mind as he can mine.
“This is gold! The viewers are gonna flip over this,” the cameraman murmurs, breaking our moment and effectively snapping us out of our lusty stare off. “Just a heads up, you’ve got fifteen before you need to be on set.”
My smile melts from my face, all the joy draining. It’s as if a sudden bucket of ice water is dumped over my head. I’ve had so much fun with Kyle, I momentarily forgot I was even on a show. The reminder is shocking. All my fears come rushing back, crashing over me. But now a new one joins the others.
I turn to Kyle, eyes wide with the realization. I don’t want him to go. There’s a high possibility he gets kicked off. The shy guys normally don’t last long on the show. Heat fiends typically vote for the men who make an impression. Aside from when we first met, Kyle didn’t even overly stand out to me. Something I’m suddenly feeling guilty over since I enjoy being with him so much.
How quickly things can change…
Either I’m projecting my thoughts across my face, or the man is intuitive enough to realize the sudden shift in my mood because he wraps an arm around me, pressing me close to his large frame. I’d bet on the latter. Something tells me Kyle doesn’t miss much.
“Guess our time is over, Peardrop. We don’t want to be late finding out which poor alphas are going home, do we?” The way he says it is chock-full of confidence that he won’t be one of those guys, but I’m not so convinced. Was the interview enough to change the viewer’s minds?
His attempt to lighten the mood has a weak smile pulling at my lips, but it quickly falls again as Kyle moves to clean up our trash. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to miss it,” I croak, my mouth dry. I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to bring some moisture back. I turn toward the door, but Kyle’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“Verity,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come here.”
Like my feet were waiting on his command, I eat up the distance between us and he wraps me in another solid embrace. One of his large hands comes up to stroke my hair, but he quickly realizes he might mess up Rosey’s hard work, and stops.
“Don’t stop. Please. Having slightly mussed hair won’t be the worst look the Heat Fiends have seen on me.”
