His pale blue eyes study me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then his gaze drops to my mouth, just for a second, but long enough for me to notice. Long enough for my stomach to flip.
I step back quickly, bumping into the counter. “I’ll just... unload this bag.” I snatch a random bag from the pile, needing to put some distance between us.
What is going on? Why am I suddenly so aware of all of them? It’s like that kiss from Rett has flipped some switch in my brain, and now I can’t stop noticing their mouths, their hands, the way they move around the kitchen.
“Bagels?” Diego asks, holding up the package. “Refrigerator or counter?”
“Counter is fine,” I say, not meeting his eyes. His kind, warm eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles, his full lips that look so soft...
Stop it. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on thetask at hand: unpacking the mountain of groceries currently taking over the kitchen island.
“Okay,” Rett says, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. He claps his hands together once, and I catch a glimpse of the man who’s the CEO of Sterling Solutions. “Let’s get this put away. Dane, freezer items. Tristan, pantry. Diego, you’re on the fridge.”
I watch them move, shifting out of the way as they navigate the groceries around each other. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, filled with the shifting of their bodies and the rustling of grocery bags. I cross my arms, leaning a hip against the counter.
“And what about me?” The question is out before I can stop it. “Do I get an assignment, CEO? Or am I just supposed to stand here and watch?”
Rett stills, a bag of coffee in his hand. His gaze slides to me, and the air in the room thickens. Tristan freezes halfway to the pantry. Diego quietly closes the fridge door, his attention fixed on us.
Something in Rett’s eyes sharpens, the blue darkening to the color of a midnight storm as he takes a single step toward me. Then another. My breath hitches. He stops just a breath away, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. The clean, assertive scent of him wraps around me.
“Your assignment,” he says, his voice a low, intimate rumble that seems to vibrate right through me, “is to stand right there.” His eyes drop to my mouth for a heartbeat. “And look pretty.”
Heat floods my cheeks. My heart gives a hard, painful thump against my ribs. Okay. So that’s the game we’re playing. His words are a direct challenge, and every instinct I have is screaming to either run or... submit.
But I do neither.
I meet his intense gaze, lift my chin, and give him a slow blink, letting my lashes flutter against my cheeks. “Careful, Rett,” I murmur. “You’ll get your alpha all over the countertops. And I’m not cleaning that up.”
The heat between us ratchets up to an almost unbearabledegree. The rest of the world fades away. There is only the charged space between us and the memory of his mouth on mine.
He sets the bag of coffee down on the counter beside me without looking, his gaze never leaving my face.
“Some messes,” he says, and his voice is different. It’s a low, possessive growl, but underneath it, there’s a new sound. A deep, vibrating purr that seems to come from the very center of his chest. I can feel it in the air between us. A thrum that resonates deep in my own bones. “Are worth making.”
He leans in, so close now I can feel his breath on my skin, see the depth of his irises. My breath hitches just as my heart becomes a frantic drum against my ribs. I should step back. I should break the connection.
Instead, I lean in a fraction of an inch closer, my voice dropping to a husky, dangerous whisper. “Is that a promise, or a threat?”
POP. HISS. SSSSHHH.
The vacuum-sealed bag of coffee beans on the counter between us violently pops its seal, a geyser of dark, fragrant beans erupting across the pristine marble and skittering across the floor.
The POP is so loud, so close, that I flinch, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat. The heady scent of freshly ground coffee explodes into the air and, for a split second, my brain can’t make sense of the sudden chaos. I just stare, my heart hammering against my ribs, at the now-limp, empty bag on the counter.
Then a sound bubbles up from my chest. A shocked, surprised, completely involuntary laugh. I clap a hand over my mouth, trying to stifle it, but it’s no use.
When I finally look up, my laughter dies in my throat. All four of them are staring at me. Not at the mess. Not at the popped bag.At me.
And they all have the exact same look on their faces. A raw,dark, and utterly obsessed expression. The air is suddenly thick again, so tense and heavy it’s hard to breathe.
I swallow hard, my smile vanishing. I need to break this. I need to get back to something normal.
“Right,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “So... where’s the broom?”
“I’ll get it,” Rett says, his voice rough. But he doesn’t move. None of them do.
For a long moment, no one speaks. The only sound is the hum of the refrigerator. Rett’s gaze pins me in place. The raw hunger in his eyes hasn’t dimmed; it’s only banked, like a fire waiting for oxygen.
