Page 36 of Bad Influence
Before the conversation can turn to Beckett, I change it.
“I’m going to cook,” I tell him.
Killian stops in the middle of grabbing the butcher block chopping board and looks at me. “I’m only trying to help.”
I scoff. “You always try to help and then completely take over. I can make dinner by myself.”
“Then I’ll assist,” he insists.
He sets the board down and starts chopping the vegetables.
“I don’t need your assistance.”
“Yes, you do. You just don’t know it yet.”
What kind of nonsensical logic is that? I cross my arms, glaring at him from across the island. I’m one second away from throwing a fit like a toddler and walking off into my room. Never mind that I’m an adult woman in her late twenties.
“I can do it myself,” I say through gritted teeth.
He doesn’t even bother looking up from the vegetables. “I never said you can’t. I’m only helping.”
I walk around the island until I’m next to him, watching the way he’s cutting the vegetables. I don’t know why I’m complaining. Most women would love a man who offers to assist in anything without being asked. And watching Killian cut vegetables is really something.
He’s wearing a black t-shirt, the sleeves a little tight around his biceps. His arms are exposed, displaying his many tattoos. His muscles shift as he chops, the veins popping in an all too distracting manner, the rings he wears way too attractive.
For a second, I forget what we’re talking about because the only thought in my depraved mind is what it will feel like to runmy hands over his arms and feel his muscles. Will the metal of the rings be cool against my skin or will it be heated from his?
I look away before I drool all over him.
I’ve lost my mind.
“I don’t need your help,” I say, my voice a little thin. “And don’t think I don’t notice that you’re talking me into circles.”
With a sigh, he sets down the knife and turns to face me fully. His blue eyes are a stark contrast against his all black attire. They set my heart racing.
“Caroline, I know you don’t need my help, but I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “You can slice a finger, you can burn yourself, the chances of you getting hurt are too high. I’m not going to stand by and let that happen. Even at the risk of making you angry, I’m not going to stop caring and making sure you’re safe. Okay?”
His words leave me speechless. I’m not so fragile or incompetent in a kitchen that I’ll hurt myself. A part of me feels like I should fight him and demand my independence, to be treated like an adult, and not a child. But the part of me that’s never been cared for before? She tells me to shut the fuck up and live in the moment.
“Okay,” I whisper.
With a nod, he turns back to the vegetables, and I lean back against the island next to him, sipping my wine. If he insists on taking over, I may as well enjoy the show.
“Lilith showed me all the major spots around the neighborhood,” I tell him.
He hums around his breath. “Are you thinking of roaming around?”
I shrug. “Maybe. I should go out and make friends.”
His chopping pauses for an imperceptible moment. It’s a moment’s pause before he starts again but I notice it because I’m standing right next to him.
“Eve and Lilith are your friends,” he says. “They already like you more than they like me.”
“I know, but I mean more friends. I want to go out there and meet people.”
The slicing and dicing stops. Slowly, Killian looks up at me, blue eyes hooking into me like an anchor and keeping me in place.
“What kind of people, Caroline?” His voice is low, almost a growl.
