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So, after unpacking the shopping, I put a skillet on the stove and started cooking and, like I thought it would, the scent of food roused a hungry HellBeast from his slumber.
“Gotta say, babe, seeing you barefoot, looking all sexy in my kitchen and cooking for me is gonna make me hungry for something else,” he said, making me grin down at the sizzling bacon before turning around to face him.
“My feet were hot,” I told him because, for some weird reason, they were. He smirked at this.
“That’s not the only thing that’s hot,” he said, looking me up and down with a predatory gaze. I had taken off my hoodie and knotted the oversize T-shirt at my belly, as well as taking my shoes and socks off. I winked at him and thought, well this was going better than expected. Of course, this was one thought where I would have spoken too soon had I voiced this aloud. Because the next thing out of his mouth was,
“At this rate, I will be buying my brother a new bike.”
“How come?” I asked, now sipping my coffee after clicking the kettle on so I could make him his favorite morning drink, something I knew by now definitely wasn’t coffee. As for me, I was on my third cup already and I swear, I thought I was going to orgasm from just the first sip. It had been so long since tasting my addiction.
But then talking about orgasaming, the sight of Jared was enough to have me near drooling. I mean, was it really fair to come down in nothing but a pair of jeans and with all those delicious muscles on show? Of course, the moment he voiced his assumption, all thoughts of jumping his bones fled me.
“The food… in fact, I am surprised I didn’t wake up at the sound of his booming voice echoing in this place.” I froze at this, knowing what was coming next and, soon enough, the question I was dreading was asked…
“What time did my brother leave?”
12
CRACKING EGGS
“What time did my brother leave?” At this I couldn’t look at him, deciding to try the age-old tactic of blatantly ignoring the question and trying to steer it to safer grounds.
Like food.
Food was always a winner.
So, I started to flip the bacon, asking him,
“I can’t remember, how do you like your eggs again, sunny side up?”
“What time did he leave, Red?” he asked again, making me ignore this and say,
“Or there is scrambled, of course.”
“Red.” My nickname was said in a sterner tone this time, and after the kettle boiled, I went out about making his tea while still purposely being obtuse.
“I would offer omelets, but I’m shit at those,” I told him as I dunked the tea bag because, clearly, English tea was the one item he would make sure was stocked in his kitchen. Of course, I had no idea just how many properties all around the world he did have, but I would bet my left ass cheek that there would be teabags in every one of them.
“Red, look at me,” he demanded more forcefully this time.
“And, well, can anyone really pull off the perfect poached?” I said in return, something that pushed him to snapping point.
“Damn it, Ella, fuck the eggs and look at me, woman!” I sighed at this, dumped the spoon in the sink and turned to face the inevitable storm.
“Fine! I went to the store, okay?”
“Come again,” he said, his incredulous tone now dark and unforgiving.
“I went to the store,” I repeated, even though I knew this was pointless because he hadn’t missed my confessing the heinous crime of grocery shopping.
“You went to the fucking store!” he shouted, making me resist the urge to roll my eyes and make it worse.
“Look, I knew you would be pissed but…”
“Pissed? Oh, sweetheart, I am so much more than pissed! What the fuck were you thinking?!” he shouted again, making me snap,
“About not fucking starving to death, that’s what!”
