Page 13 of The Incubus's Angel
Ren’s brow furrows as his gaze flits between my eyes, his lips part, and I wait for him to say whatever is on his mind. The feeling of his hand tightening around mine draws my attention down, but when I look back up at him all his emotions are neatly tucked away.
Bobbing his head, Ren says tightly, “I look forward to it. Everything you make is delicious.” Taking a reluctant step backward, he lets go of my hand and ambles toward his desk.
I’m curious about what he wanted to say, but I also won’t let it bother me too much. I know he’s happy about me being here, all signs point to that. If there’s something he wants to chat about, I’ll wait patiently for him. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.
All too soon I’m caught up in my happy zone, mixing ingredients and humming softly as my vision comes together.From my position in the kitchen, I can make out Ren’s side profile, and I try not to let my gaze wander over to his side too often.
But damn, he has one hell of a jawline. He can probably cut glass with it if he wants to.I wonder if you can register a jaw as a weapon, because he totally could.
Once I put the cake in the oven, I turn back to the table and start tidying up, packing away all my glass jars and spices, and wiping the table down.
“You’re finished?” Ren asks from behind me, a hint of panic in his voice.
I spin toward him. “Not yet. It’ll take about forty minutes in the oven. That’s an estimate, though, since each oven is different so the cooking time will vary. Once it’s out it’ll take about thirty minutes to cool. Then I can decorate it and we can eat.”
“Oh, okay. Good,” he says, relief clear on his features.
“Good?” I ask.Does he actually enjoy having me around that much?
“I mean, that went faster than expected,” he answers neutrally, almost carefully. He crosses his arms over his broad chest and I try my best not to ogle at the way his biceps bulge, but fucking hells, Ren is designed for seduction.
“What did you expect?” I ask as amiably as I can muster while trying to control my drool.
Ren lifts one arm and scratches along his jaw. “I’m not sure,” he says, looking just as confused as I now feel.
The atmosphere shifts and the silence borders on too long as I wait for him to elaborate. When it’s clear he’s not going to, every instinct within me screams to fix it. My family always saysthat if there’s silence, Maisie’ll find a way to fill it. And if it’s silent too long, then it can only mean I’m sleeping.
I duck my head, trying to catch Ren’s eye. “I can step outside to wait if you want some privacy?” I hedge.
“Stay.” There’s a thread of command in Ren’s tone that seems to take both of us by surprise. My nipples, however, react instantly, perking up at being spoken to like that.
Ren’s eyes widen to saucers, and a crimson stain spreads across his cheeks. “I mean, if you want to. I’m not telling you what to do. But you can stay. Don’t leave. I mean, you don’t have to leave. Fuck.” He grabs his hair with both hands and pulls on it, looking utterly stunned at the words that just left his mouth.
I roll my lips together, my smile threatening to break free. Ren’s absolutely adorable and I want to tackle hug him right now, but I also kind of want to play with him. It seems that there’s a trace of dominance hiding underneath his shyness and I wouldn’t be mad about exploring that more either. But considering that just having me in his space might be a stretch for this introverted creature, I don’t foresee any of that happening.
Wanting to put Ren out of his misery, I suggest, “Want to hang out with me while the cake bakes?”
Ren only nods, apparently not trusting himself to speak. I give the table a final wipe and take the seat closest to the oven so I can keep an eye on it, then gesture for Ren to take a seat too.
I tuck one of my curls behind my ear, feeling oddly shy myself now that it’s just us and no food I can hide behind. “Thank you again for having me over. I hope I’m not bothering you toomuch. I tend to talk a lot and can get a little too much for some people, so you’ll just have to be straight up when you’re tired of me. I can sometimes miss those cues. But I can admit it’s nice to hang out with someone around my own age. Since arriving in Starry Hill, I’ve mostly been spending time with my aunt and uncle. They’re great, but they also live in this cute lovey-dovey bubble where anyone else is a bit of an outsider. But that’s the kind of love I aspire to have one day, you know? How old are you, anyway? I’m twenty-three. Twenty-four next month.”
Ren relaxes back in his chair with a faint smile pulling on the corners of his lips. Seems my rambling puts him at ease.
Note to self, don’t censor. Let the babbles run free! But maybe only with Ren.
“I’m twenty-six,” he says, hands resting in his hoodie’s pockets. “And I know what you mean about finding someone to hang out with. It’s really nice to have you here.” Ren clears his throat. He doesn’t meet my eyes when he speaks next, choosing to focus on the oven as he says, “I have to admit something, though. I don’t have many girls over, or at all, so I’m sorry if I’m even more awkward than usual.”
I smile encouragingly back at him. “No worries. And I like your brand of awkward. It kind of matches mine.” Swallowing down my people-pleasingness, I choose to be brave and transparent with Ren. “Can I ask you a favor? Since we’re friends and being honest and all that jazz?”
Ren leans forward, propping his forearms on the table as he fixes me with an intense stare that feels like it can penetrate my skin and reach into my very soul. “Sure. Anything.”
“I…”
“Yeah?” Ren prods gently, head quirked with all his attention trained on me.
I grab the hem of my dress, thumbing the fabric as I find my words. “I’m the youngest of five siblings. I have four older brothers, all very successful in their various corporate fields. But throughout my entire life, I’ve been boxed into this ‘good girl’ role that my family has carved out for me. Doesn’t help that I have a deep-seated need to be liked and to make everyone around me happy. I totally take responsibility for that too. It’s just that, being called a ‘girl’ when I’m a grown woman… It irks me a little. It puts me back in that box. Sometimes, I wish…” I don’t try to look up to see Ren’s expression, embarrassed at how childish I sound.
“You wish someone would see you for who you really are? Not just who they think you are?” Ren’s voice is heavy, understanding laced into his words.
