T. Grey: Tempting Whispers

Still, she remembered a time when she was young, sitting on her mom’s toilet watching her get ready to go out. She had a nice dress on with a pair of black heels that looked womanly and grown up. She put her makeup on and fluffed her hair with the blow dryer, then she turned sideways and placed a hand to her stomach.

“You know, it doesn’t matter. Women are just never happy with how they look.”

“Why not? You’re beautiful, momma.”

She’d turned and smiled. “Why, thank you, baby. I don’t know; it’s just the bane of women, I suppose. Maybe some women can just be happy with what they got, but I never can. It’s either too much this, or too little that. You know?”

She didn’t know then, but now she did. Vanessa looked at her twenty-year old face in the mirror and saw tears swimming down her cheeks. She laughed softly and wiped them away with a towel.

“You were right, Mom,” she said and killed the bathroom lights.

Vanessa found a bunch of men’s plain clothing in the bureau, but decided to use her last of the spare clothes from her bag. All she had left was one clean pair of undies, socks, a T-shirt, and some jeans. At least, he’d have a washer and dryer here. She’d been using the coin machines downtown and the place always made her skin crawl with the yellowing linoleum floors and twitchy, dirty people that lingered around there reeking of alcohol and other things. Things like that didn’t use to bother her, even when she’d run away from home. While that was only two years ago, it felt more like ten. She’d done a lot of growing up under Joseph’s rule. God, she didn’t want to think about him or his pack. With a brisk shake of her head, she toed on her flat sneakers and made her way downstairs wearing a clean pair of jeans with tears in the knees and a fitted tee.

The smell of breakfast foods teased her nostrils: cooked buttery eggs and fried bacon. She practically ran into the kitchen. Her mouth opened and brows went high at the sight of the tall, freshly showered Brayden, cooking breakfast. The kitchen looked like something from a five-star chef’s house; all stainless steel appliances and even a double oven. Every piece of equipment, from the coffee maker to the digital touch buttons on the stove’s range, gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

“Why do you have such a nice kitchen, when you don’t eat?” She forced herself to make normal conversation and not mention how absolutely yummy he looked.

His head lifted to hers and her breath caught, her entire body tightening with alertness. His hair was still wet and lay atop his head in wet curls. He’d shaved, and while she almost missed the sight of the short stubbles, now his jaw was hard and smooth. She wanted to run her hand across it to feel just how soft, how smooth...or maybe use her lips.

She’d once had a little fantasy that she’d replay over and over again. They’d be talking, well, fighting more like, and then she’d say something that’d make him snap. Sort of how their little fight happened in front of Vane’s place when she’d run away to there. Back then, he’d been mean and cruel, telling her to ‘learn her place’, and blah, blah, blah. She’d been young and it hurt her feelings. But later, after living under Joseph’s rule, a new fantasy had sprung. She’d fight with Brayden over something ridiculous—usually her being ridiculous—then he’d snap and crush her to him, his mouth covering hers in a kiss that made her belly pull tight and her breasts ache. He’d tell her all sorts of wicked things in that deep, deep voice of his. How beautiful she was, how much he wanted her. Sometimes, if she got to dream long enough, she’d get to the part where he finally put his hand down her pants.

“It’d raise questions if I had a house built without a kitchen. Besides, though I find company rare, it does help to have a kitchen, in case. Take a seat.” She jerked from her naughty thoughts and felt a blush flood her cheeks.

He indicated the black and steel-looking island in the middle of the room and she took the black bar seat in front of it trying to act cool, like she wasn’t just reliving one of her hottest fantasies of him. He slid a plate full of eggs, bacon, and toast across to her. “Orange juice or milk?”

“Orange juice,” she answered distractedly, then cleared her hoarse throat. The food smelled delicious and made her mouth water. She hadn’t had a real meal in weeks, maybe longer. She’d been living off cheap junk food and fast-food from her meager tips.

She hesitated before picking up her fork, the whole situation not quite sitting right with her. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do this.”

He finished pouring a tall glass of juice and set it next to her, a questioning look on his face. “It’s just food and you were still showering. Why wouldn’t I start it?”

A heated blush threatened to embarrass her so she focused on staring at the refrigerator until it faded. “It’s just...no one’s cooked anything for me in a long time.” She swallowed over the sudden lump in her throat and dug into her eggs to hide her face. Still, she couldn’t bury the memories. They were too fresh. Only last month, she’d been feeding him whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, at all hours of the days. She swore sometimes he’d ask her to just because he knew how much she hated it. How much she hated him.

“Just eat,” Brayden said.

Simple enough. The eggs were perfect, just a hint of salt and pepper and scrambled just the way she liked. The toast was buttered and the bacon sliced thick and cooked to a crisp. She finished half her plate in a whirl of moans and gulps before she lifted her head to spot him staring at her with a strange look in his eyes. Was it warmth, hunger, or something else entirely? God, she hoped it was either of the first two. She fidgeted under his stare, fighting another blush. “Why do you keep fresh food here when you don't eat?”

“I have a lykaen maid who cleans the place and once a week she shops, then either throws out or takes home any food that wasn’t used. Needless to say, she usually shops for foods she likes to eat.”

Vanessa chuckled. The food made her belly happy and her muscles warm. For the first time in weeks, she was finally starting to feel safe. When Brayden took the bar seat next to her, everything went on alert. He leaned forward on the island, his elbows resting on it, his hands folded together. His eyes watched her. If she leaned forward, they’d only been two feet apart. Close enough that she could wrap an arm around his neck and pull him close...feel those lips across hers.

She realized she was staring at his lips and quickly looked into his eyes. His were leveled right on her. Damn, he probably saw her eye-humping his mouth. “Why do you keep looking at me?” It was almost unnerving with those bright eyes. And she needed to say something to get around the fact that she’d been staring at his mouth, wondering what it’d feel like.

He quickly turned his head and she watched his jaw flex, just a slight bulging of the hard bone. That gave her pause. Had he not realized he’d been watching her like a hawk this whole time? Had he seen her staring at his lips like it was her next meal? Or had she just pissed him off? With him, she couldn’t tell one from the other.

“I wasn’t.” He stood and began scrubbing the dirty skillets and bowl at the sink.

Vanessa didn’t know what to make of him or his actions. Maybe he was just a weirdo who didn’t have many friends, then, thrown next to her, he just didn’t know how to act normal. Her eyes traced over his back and further down. Even in casual clothes, he dressed nicer than she did. He wore a pair of soft-looking loose khaki pants and a loose shirt that reminded her of something a golfer would wear. The thought sent a giggle through her. The water shut off and he turned to stare at her, his brow furrowed into a vee.