“Nah. That’s my job,” I joked as I glanced around for a utensil to stir the eggs.
Reaching over me, Kehl plucked a carved, wooden, flat ended spoon up from a large clay jar and held it out to me. My brain felt like it went on the fritz as his fur brushed my hand, his scent filled my nostrils, and my body went haywire.
This was just like what happened to me being near Cy and Elm but it was so extreme I stumbled dizzily and had to catch myself by grabbing onto the counter.
“‘Kay?” Khel asked.
Waving him off, I tried for a smile. It faltered as he drew close, dragged my beanie from my head, and his breath coasted over my head as he examined that weird, dried bandage paste stuff. Before I’d had a chance to think about what the hell I wasdoing, I sucked in a lungful of his scent. A loud rumbling sound filled the air.
Kehl pulled away to stare down at me in surprise. It wasn’t until his fuzzy eyebrows shot up that I realized that sound was coming from me.
Embarrassed, red faced, I mumbled nervously, “I love pancakes. What can I say? Heh… heh.”
Kehl said nothing, his expression gone from surprise to perfectly impassive at my bullcrap excuse.
“I’m starved,” I muttered as I hurriedly turned towards the egg pan to dump eggs into it and get this breakfast party started. The only problem was, I’d just walked away from the eggs, meaning I’d have to go back over near Kehl to retrieve them.
Something is wrong with me, I surmised. This can’t be normal. The weirdest part? I really wanted to run back over there for another hit of his scent.
“Purr-roo?”
“Hmm? What?” My smile was too wide, forced. “Just, uh, checking the pan.” The forced laugh that followed sounded like I was having some kind of personal, private, bathroom related issue.
Why was I talking so loud?
Staring at the pan a bit too hard, I lifted my hand, ready to tap the side with my finger, when thick arms reached around me, quickly captured my hand, and jerked me back away from the stove. The action shoved me against Kehl’s wide chest, pressing my hand and his cupping over it into my belly.
“Hot,” Kehl warned.
Yes. Yes, it was.
“Oh. The pan.” He’d meant the pan. “I knew that,” I mumbled.
Fidgeting in his hold, emotions warring, I turned and wriggled to extricate myself.
Kehl easily kept me where he wished.
“Purr-roo?”
“I’m sorry.” I was swimming in his scent, drowning in it. I felt drunk off of it. I knew he could smell me, the reaction I was having to his nearness. Covering my face with my hands, I shook my head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Kehl released me and I sighed in relief. He understood. Good. And he didn’t sound angry or offended.
Thick fingers curled around mine. I started at the unexpected touch. This gave him the advantage he needed, making it easier to wrestle my hands away from my face and dip down to force me to meet his gaze.
“Why sorry?”
He was so close and he smelled so damn good. Breathing through my mouth didn’t help any. If anything, I found myself panting, licking my lips, then swallowing thickly past the lump forming in my throat, the saliva filling my mouth.Mark. Bite. Claim. Mine.
“No,” I blurted at my inner thoughts— they felt loud, primal. I would have pulled away but he held my wrists captive.
Kehl gave a loud sniff, then another. Leaning in, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. A deep, rattling rumble burst to life in his chest.
My fingers itched to press into his chest right over the spot, burrow into hot skin and thick fur, to lean in and catch a deeper hit of his scent.
My heart raced double-time. My throat worked as I struggled to calm my breathing. I was panting at this point, short, loud, obvious little pants for breath.
Kehl leaned in closer. A soft, reassuring sound bubbled up his throat. Shivering in place, I forced myself to meet his gaze.
