I flick my eyes up at him.
“I don’t want you smoking anyone else’s shit, especially that stuff the Bennett brothers grow. You hear?”
“Yes, Da—ddy.”
He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat and I swear, a low growl escapes from deep in his throat.
I avert my gaze and eat the rest of my breakfast in silence. This is one of the most awkward meals I’ve ever sat through, and I’ve endured some crap in my time. The tension between us could supply the farmhouse with electricity for a whole month.
* * *
Kane eye fucksme as he steps into the kitchen. He comes close to me, peering into the fridge, his damp hair hangs limp in front of his forehead. I inhale the cool mint of his body that’s replaced his usual woody scent.
He places a hand inside and retrieves a cold beer. “I thought you were going out?” He scratches the scruff on his jaw as he gives me another once over in my old clothes.
“Yaz cancelled on me. She isn’t feeling well.” I continue to stare into the fridge, looking for something to eat, but can’t think straight now he’s next to me. My stomach twists and my foot taps against the tiled floor while I chew on the inside of my cheek as if deep in thought, but the only thing running around in my mind is him. Naked and tossing me around like a rag doll.
“If I’d known you were staying in, I’d have gone out.” He opens the bottle with his teeth before tossing the cap in the bin.
My shoulders sag. “Thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel welcome.” If he is going to make things awkward now, as much as I loved last night, I want to erase the entire incident.
“Shit.” The bottle clinks against the table. “I didn’t mean it like that.” His hand runs through his damp raven hair, pulling the waves back from his forehead. “I only meant I’d have given you some space.”
I turn my head away from the fridge to gaze into his steel-blue eyes. “I don’t want space. Can’t we just be like we were before?”
“Before?” His question hangs in the air, like he doesn’t know which before I’m talking about, before last night or before the spanking.
“You know. Before you gave me the pearl necklace.” I meant it to come out as a joke, but when I glance up through my lashes, he isn’t laughing. My stomach knots. No longer hungry, I close the fridge door.
His silver-blue eyes pierce the mask I’m wearing as he studies me. I’m sure he can see a frail girl standing before him, no matter how much of a front I put on.
My teeth munch on my purple thumb nail, bits of varnish flake off on my tongue. “I’ll just hang in my room.” I step to the side and he follows, accidentally blocking my path. My feet slide to the other side and his bare feet match my movements like some sort of awkward dance neither of us knows the steps to.
“Sorry.” He turns sideways, allowing me to slip between him and the fridge. “You don’t have to hide away in your room. I’m sure we can both stay in the living room. I won’t try anything, I promise.”
I pause when I reach the bottom of the stairs. Despite the disappointment of his statement, my body still hangs on to some hope that if I stay downstairs with him, he might just give in to temptation again. A buzz fills my chest, fluttering through every limb. With hope in my veins, my foot spins, following in his direction. I pad into the room and gingerly sit on the sofa.
He appears moments later and sits in the chair at the other end of the room. Tension crackles between us and I fear the TV may explode when he finally turns it on with the remote control.
Neither of us speak, just stare at the TV in the dim room, lit only by a lamp in the corner, the glow of logs on the fire and now the colours from the 32” screen. Belle curls up on the brown rug in front of the fire and to anyone looking in they would see the perfect family scene.
The TV could play anything, but all I see is static and all I hear is a crackle along with my pounding heart. The longer I sit here, the louder it becomes. A poltergeist could reach through the static and swallow me whole, and I would probably feel more comfortable than I do right now. Every part of my skin itches. I dare a glance his way and catch his eye.
He shoots his gaze away the second our eyes meet, as do I, then slowly brings them back to rest on his hard features. The light highlights his cheekbones and every masculine line on his face. Why did he have to be so good looking? I’ve no doubt he scrubs up well. I wonder if Mum got the rugged man he is now with an unshaven jaw and ruffled hair, or was he more polished back in the day? In the old photographs on the sideboard, he’s clean shaven, with his hair gelled back and wearing a smile that I’ve only had a glimpse of since being here.
He brings the bottle to his lips and I’m suddenly dying of thirst, but I can’t move. I’m trapped on this sofa, in the same place I always sit. The same position I was in last night. It’s a good thing the colour is a deep burgundy, as I’m sure I left a stain.
Moisture pools between my thighs just thinking about it. I shift in the seat, my body incredibly uncomfortable. My skin burns, sensing his eyes on me like lasers. But I don’t look. Instead, I sink further into the sofa, packing the cushions around me in the hope they’ll hide my flushed cheeks.
If only I’d gone upstairs? I could be reading right now instead of pretending to watch a movie. I’d hoped he would sit next to me, dissipate some of the tension, laugh at the TV. Even talk to me.
Was that so much to ask?
In truth, I’d hoped he’d sit next to me, bring my feet onto his lap and massage them. Maybe suck my toes before trailing kisses up my calf and inner thigh. A long hum escapes my lips. My eyes widen.
He shoots a glance my way. Now he’s shifting uncomfortably, adjusting his jeans. “You okay?”
I let out a sound like a squeak and squirm in my seat, my entire body on fire. He’s trying to parent me, but he’s doing a lousy job. His first mistake was spanking my bare ass. I almost want to be a brat so he’ll do it again. Anything to feel those rough hands on my skin. But I’m afraid he would kick me out. Despite the tension, I really like it here.
