Chapter 8 Kitchen Surprises
REID
By the time I get back to my new residence, it’s already past midnight. I’d spent the last couple of hours apologizing to Athena for my harsh words, keeping myself in check and trying to behave like a proper, normal brother.
Once inside, I don’t head upstairs to my room. Instead, I make a beeline for the kitchen. I need water to flush out the alcohol in my system, even though I didn’t drink much. Since I couldn’t make it to the university today, thanks to Lyra, I have to show up tomorrow without fail. A hangover isn’t part of the plan.
But the moment I step into the kitchen, I stop dead in my tracks.
My breath cut off instantly, eyes locked on the silhouette of the girl sitting at the kitchen table.
She hasn’t noticed me yet. The only light in the kitchen is coming from the laptop screen in front of her, casting a soft glow over her features.
Lyra.
But seeing her isn’t what knocked the air out of my lungs.
It is what she’s doing.
Her glasses dangle low on the bridge of her nose as she types on her laptop, fingers moving rapidly across the keys. Every few seconds, she slides a hand under the thin fabric of her oversized shirt, gently tracing her fingers over her breast. Her nipples push against the material, stiff and obvious.
Her other hand is already beneath the table, parted legs shifting slightly as she slips her fingers between them, clearly touching herself.
I don’t need anyone to explain that she’s masturbating.
Her head tilts back a little, hair sliding behind her in soft waves. Her breathing deepens, chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm.
And by the gods… it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever witnessed.
My body reacts instantly. I feel my cock harden painfully against my zipper.
I swallow, rooted to the floor. I know this was a complete invasion of privacy, but my brain isn’t moving at all. I don’t know what the hell to do.
Should I try to slip out quietly? What if she notices me mid-exit? What if she catches me standing here like this… watching her touch herself in a way that would make any man lose control?
My cock throbs harder as she pauses. She withdraws her hand and returns both to the keyboard, fingers typing with surprising focus.
I frown. There’s no way she’s watching porn while typing so steadily. So what the hell is she doing?
That’s when my phone decides to betray me, vibrating violently in my pocket.
She freezes. Her head snaps up.
Our eyes meet.
For a moment, neither of us moves. We simply stare, shock slamming through both of us. She’s gone pale, as if wishing the ground would open up and swallow her alive.
I can’t even breathe. What’s the right thing to say in a situation this twisted?
“Oh my god.” She’s the first to break. Her hands flow to the laptop, snapping it shut with such force I half-expect the screen to crack.
Her cheeks burn red as she stares at me wide-eyed. She scrambles to adjust her shirt.
I resort to my only known survival mechanism; nonchalance.
“Relax,” I lie smoothly, stepping past her toward the fridge. “I’ve only been here for a second.”
Definitely not true.
I reach up, take a tumbler from the cupboard, and fill it with water. Behind me, I can hear her ragged breathing.
I want to smack myself in the face. Fuck. How the hell could I have been so reckless?
I hear her move behind me, shoving things into her bag. Her footsteps retreat, then stall.
Her voice comes out small and hesitant. “Uhm… about what you saw… do you mind—”
“I’m not a blabbermouth, Lys.” I cut in, pouring myself another glass. And instantly mentally slap myself. Fantastic, Reid. A nickname? Already?
I keep going anyway, refusing to turn and look at her. “What you were doing is normal. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
Silence stretches thin for a beat.
“Thanks,” she whispers at last.
Her footsteps resume, this time faster. And then she’s gone, leaving me alone with my drink and my spiraling thoughts.
Only when she’s completely gone do I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. I fist my hair and groan under it.
Pull yourself together, Reid. You’re supposed to hate her. Not fall apart every fucking time she’s near. Not wish it were your hands sliding over the places hers explored earlier.
I exhale again, set the empty glass down with more force than necessary, and head toward the exit. Just as I reach the doorway, I almost collide with someone.
For a second, I wonder if it’s Lyra. Maybe she forgot something. But when I meet the girl’s face, I know instantly it isn’t her.
It’s the girl I saw with Lyra earlier on the stairs.
Her eyes widen, brightening like she’s pleased to run into me.
“Reid Hades?” she says.
“And you are?” I lift a brow, keeping my tone calm but itching to leave and get back to my room.
She smiles softly, looking at me from beneath her lashes. I’ve seen that look more times than I care to count. It’s the coy kind. The ‘you-know-exactly-what-I-want’ kind.
My gaze sweeps over her just once. She’s wearing a thin nightwear that’s practically transparent. Enough to outline her breasts and every curve.
Normally, women dressed like this do nothing to me.
Except Lyra.
“Roxanna,” she finally answers, after spending a full minute undressing me with her eyes. “Lyra’s sister.”
That’s when it clicks. So she’s the sister who slept with Lyra’s arranged mate. The reason Lyra attempted that revenge spell that backfired and tied our souls together instead.
My lips curls as instant disgust fires through me. I dislike her already.
“Has anyone given you a tour of the house?” she asks, twirling her hair. Her gaze crawles all over me. She bites her lip. “Or do you want me to?”
“No. And goodnight.” I answer flatly, ready to walk past her. But her hand shoots out and clamps around my wrist.
My body freezes.
Slowly, I turn my head toward her. My skin crawls at the contact.
“Take your hand off me,” I warn, my voice low, eyes darkening. Shock flashes across her face, like she didn’t expect that.
If she’s used to men bending for her, she’s about to be disappointed.
“I said… let go.” My tone sharpens. “If you’re hunting for your next distraction after screwing your sister’s arranged mate, you picked the wrong guy. You’re not my type.”
I yank my hand free and walk away, uncaring that she stumbles back, hitting the wall.