Smoochie Girlby Ashnikko is playing all around me, and I start singing along, grabbing everything I need to make eggs and bacon from the fridge.
I cook the bacon first, nibbling on it while I fry up the rest of my food. I’m in the middle of flipping my egg when a shadow looms over me, and a hand reaches to snatch a piece of bacon from the plate.
Startled, I let out a high-pitched squeal, dropping the egg onto the floor.
Shocked eyes stare up at the perpetrator who caused me to murder my egg.
“What the fuck?” My breathing is short and shallow, and my heart is pounding in my chest.
Damien doesn’t move, rooted where he is. He’s so close I can feel the body heat coming off him in waves.
I blink at him in shock, watching as he takes a bite of the stolen bacon, brows raised. He licks the grease from his lips, and I’m embarrassed to admit there's heat forming in my belly.
Swallowing hard, I step back, afraid I’m going to do something stupid, like touch him.
It takes a moment before I can find my words. “What is your problem? You made me drop my egg.”
“Not my fault you’re so jumpy,” he drolls. “Just wanted this.” He holds up the half-eaten strip of bacon.
“Well, it’s not for you,” I snark back, snatching it from his hand and shoving it into my mouth, chewing angrily.
His lips twitch with amusement, pissing me off more. “Someone’s a little feisty this morning. Did you not get enough sleep? Surprising considering you have all the time in the world to do nothing.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter.
His nostrils flare, eyes glaring. I take another step back, heart pounding.
We hold eye contact for what feels like hours as an intense energy crackles between us. It fizzles when he turns away, and I suck in a breath.
What the fuck was that?
He turns his back to me and starts making something on the stove.
I’m too stunned, frozen in place, to ask what he’s doing.
My eyes wander as I take him in. He’s shirtless, and his muscled back is on full display. He’s dressed in low-slung workout shorts, and my eyes stop to admire his ass.Oh, the way those shorts fit his firm cheeks.
I have to close my eyes and bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from perfuming and silently announcing the fact that I find my stepbrother attractive. Guess some things never change.
It doesn’t help that he’s gone from a hot guy tothissexy, hot man.
I don’t stop ogling him until he’s putting something on a plate.
“Here.” He spins around, holding the plate out in my direction.
My eyes don’t drop to the plate—nope, they zero in on the tattoo on his chest, right above his heart. Is that a... cupcake? Why the hell, out of all the tattoos he could have, why had he’d chosen that?
“Earth to Addie,” Damien grunts, still holding out the plate.
My eyes flick down. It’s a fried egg.Did he make me an egg to replace the one he made me drop?
I reach for it with shaky hands, my mind racing. My attention darts back up to his. “Why don’t you have a scent?” I blurt.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Not that it wasn’t something I wanted to know. I realized the first day I was back, when he was standing in my doorway, that I couldn’t smell him. I mean, I could, he smelled like soap and mint gum, but that can’t be his Alpha scent, can it?
And why the hell do I care so much about what his Alpha scent smells like?
