Page 78 of Nightfire

He felt…he felt like a virgin must feel after sex for the very first time. He didn’t actually remember much about his very first time, except that it had been standing up in a doorway, because he’d been drunk at the time. But if he’d had a different life, if he hadn’t been so fucking angry all the time, he could imagine his first time feeling like this. Like he’d personally discovered an entire new realm of pleasure.

Except instead of discovering sex with some nice bland high schooler at 17, he was discovering it with Chloe, who was anything but bland.

She was so wise and so loving.

And so fucking hot.

Man, he was a lucky guy.

“Mike?” Chloe pushed at his shoulder.

“Hmm?”

She wriggled out from under his arm while he groaned at the loss of her slight weight and warmth. He could stop her, any time. No question. Except, whoa, he didn’t seem to have any control over his body. His muscles had been replaced by cotton. He tried to hold on to her but his hand flopped right back down to the mattress.

“Mike Keillor,” she chided. “You promised twice to feed me last night and yet here I am, still hungry. You should be ashamed of yourself. A girl could starve to death here.”

The words were a light, gentle buzzing sound somewhere off on the horizon. He didn’t pay them much attention. He just liked the sound of Chloe’s voice.

A rustle of sheets, the bed dipped lightly and he could hear her padding about in bare feet.

Chloe had such pretty feet. His mind went off on a little meditative trance on Chloe’s feet while the pleasant sounds of a shower filled the room with white noise.

“Okay,” she said, back in the bedroom. “I guess I’m going to have to cook something myself. We’ll see what you have. I hope there’s something to work with.”

He could hear her padding off.

A frown formed on his forehead. Chloe. Kitchen.

The buzzing grew louder, darker.

This does not compute.

His eyes snapped open. Chloe in the kitchen. No, no, no!

Galvanized, he rolled out of bed and pulled on a robe. Chloe and kitchens were not a good combo. Chloe in the kitchen was a disaster in the making. The woman had no feel for cooking at all, but was interested in learning. After one bite of her experiments, no matter how much everyone loved her, they couldn’t choke down the rest. Not even Merry, who adored her, could eat more than a bite or two.

Chloe in the kitchen was not a good thing.

He ran to the kitchen, then stopped in the doorway, watching her moving around in the warm morning sunshine. True, she couldn’t cook. But then again…she was just so fucking pretty.

She had on one of his tees which hung to her knees, billowing around her arms. She was barefoot, one pretty foot over the other as she concentrated on burning the toast. She’d turned the radio on the counter to a classic rock station and swayed that pretty behind to Hotel California.

She was like a little fairy princess come down from heaven to burn his coffee and make scrambled eggs with shell bits.

He hadn’t said a thing but she suddenly put down the wooden spoon she was using to push a stringy mass of eggs around his pan and turned.

The counter was a mess and the food smelled awful. But she smiled at him and his heart simply turned over in his chest.

Chloe.

Fuck it. He’d hire a cook.

“Here.” Her smile was blinding. How the hell was a man supposed to resist? She held out a mug. “I made us breakfast.”

“That’s nice, honey.” He took the mug, trying not to gag at the smell of burned rubber and took a sip. It wasn’t so bad, if you didn’t mind the taste. At least it was hot.

“Sit,” she ordered and placed a smoking pan on his kitchen table. Burnt toast followed on a dish. But she’d done the table up nicely, scavaging in his cupboards for presentable plates, coming up with tea towels to use as place mats. It looked nice. Mike was glad he’d finally broken down and gone to Ikea to buy every kind of glass there was after Ellen laughed at the jelly jars he used as glasses.