CHAPTER THIRTEEN: KITCHEN ENCOUNTER

SAGE'S POV

His hands remained wrapped around my body and all I could do was stare. We were barely a few inches apart, so close that I felt suffocated by his whiskey breath and that intoxicating scent.

His steel-grey eyes looked tired, with dark circles underneath that made him seem less like the cold Alpha and more like a man who had not slept enough.

His dark hair was slightly messy, like he had run his fingers through it too many times. Up close, I could see the sharp line of his jaw and the way his shoulders felt stiff under my hold.

Even though my mind screamed at me to push him away and get off him, I did not move. It was almost like I had been frozen in time and all I could do was stay there and stare at hues in his grey eyes.

“Are you planning on going to sleep there?” Dante asked, his voice low and a little rough from tiredness.

"Huh?" The word left my lips as I stared at him in confusion.

Dante looked like he was seconds from rolling his eyes and he glanced at his arms then at me. "My arms? Are you planning on sleeping there?"

His words were more than enough to snap me out of the stupid daze, and I finally pulled away from him, stepping back quickly until my back touched the counter. My heart was still racing from the almost-fall and from being so close to him.

He looked at me for a second, then asked, “What were you looking for up there?”

At first, I thought of just running straight to my room, but my craving was far stronger than the distaste I had for him.

Taking a deep breath, I turned towards the cabinet pointing at the jar staring at us. I tried my best not to think about him but my cheek only felt more flushed.

Dante gave me a small glance that made my face heat up even more. "The pickle jar?" He asked like it wasn't the only thing in the cabinet. Trying my best not to be mean, I gave him a small nod.

He grabbed the jar with ease, turning the lid before handing it to me.

“Thank you” I muttered, avoiding his gaze as I picked up a fork. I stabbed one of the pickles and took a bite, trying to focus on the sour taste instead of him.

Dante took the plate out of the microwave and set it on the counter. The smell of the warmed chicken and vegetables filled the kitchen.

I tried to ignore his scent and his presence as I ate my pickles, but it was hard. If anything it felt like he was standing right behind him even when he was more than ten feet away.

Just when I began to relax, he sat down on the stool beside me and started dishing out some of the food onto a plate for himself.

I focused my energy on chewing on the sour cucumbers but somehow my eyes still wandered. Straight for his food and I found myself craving it even more than the pickles.

The thought annoyed me. Why the hell had my self control run off too? It annoyed me and my brain could only come up with one answer; it had to be the baby.

Dante noticed me staring at his plate. Without saying anything, he shifted the rest of the food toward me. I took it with a grateful look on my face and started eating.

The chicken felt warm and it was seasoned exactly how I liked it. It might have sounded like an exaggeration but it filled a void inside of me that I didn't know I had. Even though part of me did not want to accept anything from him, I kept eating anyway.

A strange feeling blossomed in me and before I knew what I was doing, I asked, “How was work?” If Dante was surprised by the question, he did not show it. He answered like it was not a big deal.

“It was the usual. Meetings about pack borders and some business deals.” We had a bit of conversation after that.

I kept my eyes on my plate the whole time, not looking at him at all. "That sounds nice. So any idea who might have broken into my house?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I waited for a reply.

Dante turned towards me letting out an amused chuckle. "Is that why you're still up?"

His voice was calm like this was a normal conversation. "Please," I muttered rolling my eyes. "I just happened to run into you and I care about my safety."

I tried my best to sound as nonchalant as possible. I would have looked relaxed to a normal person but the feeling between my thighs kept growing.

Dante scraped off the last of his food and I watched him walk towards the sink dropping the plate in. I tried to look away but my eyes wouldn't listen especially with the way he stared back at me.

My face felt overly warm and it felt like I could feel everything all at once. Dante's eyes had not shifted for even a second, and I couldn't help but realize how short my nightgown was.

As if reading my mind, his eyes flicked downwards but still I didn't make a move to cover myself, my arousal getting worse.

He took fast steps towards me, leaning so close our faces were almost touching. My whole body burned and I could feel my pussy pulsing.

I thought he was going to lean in for a kiss. No! No!!! My mind screamed but for some reason, I made no effort to move.

My mind went blank and my breathing got faster. His hand wandered around my neck and just when I thought I might melt into him, he snapped something off my jacket.

"What th—" I stared at his hand to find him holding a thread?

His intentions dawned on me and I felt my face get even more flushed. Oh my god. I could see the reflection of my flushed cheeks in the shiny surface of the fridge door beside us.

Embarrassment turned into rage and before he could explain, I ran out of the kitchen heading straight for my room.