Chapter Three – NOW

 

I feel him before he speaks.  The energy that surrounds him fills my small kitchen, making the air thick.  His heat hits my back and I studiously concentrate on pouring Skittles into a bowl.

“Need some help?”  He reaches over my shoulder and plucks a red candy from the bowl.

“N—,” I pause to clear the croak from my voice.  “No, I’m fine.  Go ahead and chill out with Matilda.”

A shiver races down my spine when his fingers make contact with my neck as he brushes my hair aside.  “I’ll just grab a beer then.”  Why must his voice be so incredibly breathtaking?  It’s gravelly and deep, rough, but with a smooth edge. 

A heavy exhale rushes past my lips as he walks out of the kitchen.  I grip the side of the counter hard enough for my knuckles to go white-white.

“Get a grip, Liv,” I whisper harshly.  “Get. A. Grip.”

Five minutes later, I exit the kitchen with a stoic smile and two bowls of snacks.  Kyle is on the couch with Matilda curled up beside him, her head resting on his muscular arm, her blonde curls tumbling over the black tattoos that cover his bicep.  I set the food down on the small, oblong table and return to the kitchen to get a can of soda.

“Olaf’s the funniest.  You should be him for Halloween, Uncle Kyle,” Matilda is saying.

“The snowman?  Shouldn’t I be Prince Hans?”

My brows shoot up.  How on earth does Kyle know the characters from Frozen?

Matilda giggles.  “No, silly.  He’s a meanie.”

“Okay, let’s watch Zootopia,” I announce as I hit play on the remote and take the only available space on the couch left.  Right beside Kyle.  I squish myself right up against the edge, leaving three inches between us.  I’m determined not to touch him in any way.

“Momma, can I have a drink?” Matilda asks after about fifteen minutes.

“Yes, sweetie. I’ll grab it for you.”  I quickly fill her a cup of water and return, only to find Kyle has spread his legs wider than what I believe is necessary.  Surely he doesn’t need that much room.  I sit down, squeezing my thighs together, pushing myself deeper into the arm of the couch.  The three inches of space I had just minutes ago has evaporated.  Now it’s less than three millimeters. It’s impossible to focus on the movie when all of my attention is centered on the sliver of space between his thigh and mine.

I contemplate twisting slightly and crossing my legs, but then I run the risk of my ass brushing against his hip.  I could sit on the floor, but the tiles aren’t heated and I don’t want to freeze my butt off.  I wish I had room for another couch.

“Relax,” he says, startling me as he whispers in my ear.  His warm breath skates across my cheek and my eyes involuntarily flutter closed. 

“Look, Uncle Kyle!  It’s a buffalo.” Matilda giggles.  Thankful for the intrusion, I force myself to studiously watch the television.  I reach over and grab a handful of popcorn to nibble on, ignoring Kyle as he scoops up some Skittles.

The movie finally ends and I announce to Matilda it’s her bedtime.

“Can Uncle Kyle read me a story?” she asks, giving me those puppy dog eyes I can never refuse.

“Sure I can,” he replies before I can answer.

“Okay then, come on.  Into bed.”  I tuck her in, kiss her forehead, and tell her I love her.  Then I leave the room as Kyle begins to read.

I busy myself tidying up stray kernels of popcorn and dropped Skittles before taking the empty dishes into the kitchen and rinsing them out.  I don’t know why my body has such a prominent reaction to Kyle.  It’s not something that grew over time, it’s been present since the very first time I met him, so I can’t even relay it as me projecting my feelings of Brant onto Kyle because Brant isn’t here anymore.  It just doesn’t make sense to me and I wish I could somehow obliterate it from my mind and body.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t hear Kyle come up behind me, and when he speaks low, close to the back of my neck, telling me Matilda is asleep, I startle and spray water from the faucet over my front.

“Shit!” I hiss. “You scared me half to death.”  I spin around and eye him accusingly.  His gaze drops to my chest and he grins, slow and lazy, before returning those captivating eyes to mine.

“Can’t say I’m sorry.”

I glance down and realize my white shirt is now soaked through and my nipples, like a beacon of desire aimed directly at Kyle, are proudly displayed through the thin white lace of my bra. 

“Oh Jesus,” I mutter as I race out of the kitchen as his low chuckle follows me.