Frowning, I got out of bed, more worried about the hint of char I smelled in the air than why Thallirin had opened my door. My nose led me to the kitchen. Still dressed in athletic shorts, Thallirin stood in front of the stove, staring down at the smoking pan.
I waved my hand in front of my face and coughed lightly.
“I don’t know what you’re cooking, but if it starts smoking, it’s usually done.”
“Something isn’t right. It’s still gooey,” he said, glancing back at me.
His gaze swept over me, and the plastic spatula in his hand snapped in half. I looked down at myself. Nothing was hanging out of my top, and my shorts covered my bits. All I was showing was legs and arms.
Shaking my head at his reaction, I crossed the room and reached around him to turn off the burner.
“You have the heat too high for pancakes,” I said, looking at the mess in the pan. “Lower is better for those. And a cover.” I reached up and turned on the hood vent. “This thing vents the smoke outside. I can’t believe the smoke detectors aren’t going off.”
He continued to hold completely still in front of the stove, watching me.
“So, you like pancakes?”
“No,” he rasped. “I was making them for you.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I wanted to do something for you. Something that was given freely.” The words were sweet as was the way his eyes kept flicking to my pajamas.
“Does what I’m wearing make you uncomfortable?” I asked. “I can go put my jeans—”
“No,” he said quickly.
His gaze dipped to my chest, and I watched in fascination as the tips of his ears darkened. My pulse jumped a little.
Trying to ignore both our reactions, I reached up and gently set my fingers on his chin, turning his head so I could look at his neck.
“The bite looks better,” I said. I carefully ran my finger over the skin just around the scab. “It’s not overly warm, which is good.” I leaned closer, frowning. “In fact, it looks mostly healed. That’s amazing.”
He closed his eyes, and a full-body shudder shook him, obviously too much touching for him to handle while I was still wearing pajamas.
“Sorry.”
I went to take my hand away, but his closed over mine. He didn’t force it back, but he held it like he wanted to. Like he was trying so hard not to.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said.
“I’m not upset.”
“You look like you are.”
He exhaled slowly.
“I’m desperate and confused and trying to be neither.”
His honesty had me willingly returning my hand to his skin just below the bite. He didn’t try to stop me, but a small noise did escape him. For the first time, I really considered what this moment might mean to him.
While my experience at the bunker previously had me writing off sexual contact for the rest of my life, I’d never once wanted to give up physical contact. Mom and Zach hugging me was a balm to my soul. Even the smallest touch or gesture from them, when I was feeling down and alone, helped. I couldn’t imagine going through a lifetime without that kind of contact, let alone several lifetimes. That Thallirin had endured just that only to come to the surface and feel like I—the girl who the rules said he couldn’t yet be with—was the one for him had to be torture.
“You want to be touched just as much as you don’t want to be touched. Am I right?”
He closed his eyes and gave a small nod.
“I understand,” I said. I trailed my fingers down his throat to his chest, tracing over the scars. He shuddered again.
“Will you tell me to stop if something bothers you?”
“Yes.” The word was a rasp of a whisper.
I could lie to myself and say that I was trying to comfort him with my touch, but I wasn’t. I was touching him for me, too. Because with each scar I traced, my heart beat just a little faster. My breathing became just a little shallower. I was touching him to test me. To try to figure out why I was reacting the way I was. Was it real? Why him? Those two questions quietly whispered into my mind until they wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Do you want to touch me?” I asked, smoothing my palms over his shoulders.
“Yes.”
The word was filled with enough need that I should have been running for the door. But I didn’t. I stood my ground and asked the most terrifying question I had ever asked.
“How do you want to touch me?”
I braced myself for a boob grab or a southern grope but received neither. He opened his eyes, his gaze feathering over my face as he reached up, his hand trembling, and gently stroked a finger down my hair. Another tremor ran through him, and he dropped his hand to his side again.
That was it. He’d wanted to touch my hair.
I took his hand and lifted it to my cheek. His breathing grew ragged. Knowing I’d pushed us both far enough, I turned my head and pressed my lips to his palm to comfort and thank him.
He jerked back from me as if scalded, and an angry growl echoed from his chest.
“I’m sorry,” I said, inching back. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He fisted his hand at his side, and I looked down at it, wondering what he meant to do. My gaze didn’t stay there, though. It shifted to his waist, where all thought of an enraged fey evaporated at the sight of the massive tent he was sporting. No, tent was the wrong word for it. The shorts weren’t that loose. His meat-mallet was trying to rip its way free of the pathetic material.
He wasn’t angry. He was raging the biggest boner I’d ever witnessed. I’d never be able to unsee it.
As I stared, it twitched.
His fingers touched the bottom of my chin and forced my gaze up to his eyes.
“You’re too young, Brenna. Eat. I will return.”
He left the kitchen, and I stared after him in amazement. He didn’t just have restraint; he had an iron will. And probably a set of blue balls from hell.
Why did that make me want to grin like an idiot?
I scraped the burnt pancake mess from the pan and started over on the breakfast he’d been trying to make me. I knew pancakes weren’t the fey’s first choice in breakfast food. It was meat. It was always meat. That Thallirin had been up trying to cook something specifically for me only made me smile more. Even with the promise of nothing, he was still doing what he’d said he would do.
My smile fell, and I felt a little cruel. Oh, guilt wasn’t going to get me to hop into bed with him, but I sure was going to try to be a lot nicer and more understanding.
By the time Thallirin returned, showered and dressed, I had a nice stack of pancakes made and the table set.
We had a quiet breakfast together where he kept glancing at me.
“What are your plans for today?” I asked finally.
“I have no plans.”
“Me either. Want to spend some more time together?”
“Yes.”
“Great. I’m going to head back to my house to shower and change. Should I meet you back here in an hour?”
He grunted, and I went to the bedroom to put on my jeans. They weren’t on the floor where I’d left them, but on the bed, neatly folded. The bed was made, too.
“You don’t have to clean up after me,” I called. “You’re already doing me a favor by letting me stay here.” I tugged on my pants and buttoned them.