I did my best to ignore Daemon and the fact he was like a stalker/bodyguard as I stopped at the post office to pick up the mail.
Ignoring him didn't work.
He'd pulled right up beside me, rolled down the window and turned those unreal green eyes on me. "What part of going straight to the house did you not understand? I feel like we've had this conversation before."
We did.
Yesterday.
"There might be books in there waiting for me," I told him.
He sighed. "There might be Arums hanging around ready to eat you."
"You're here, so it's okay."
His brilliant gaze settled on mine. "Yeah, but I'm trying to be proactive about this and not reactive."
I was just trying to check the mail, so...
He muttered something under his breath and then opened the door, unfolding his long and broad body. "You're a pain in my ass."
Raising my hand, I itched my cheek with my middle finger.
He arched a brow. "Nice, Kitten."
Smiling sweetly at him, I turned and flounced—yes, flounced—across the parking lot and into the post office. The giant puddle blocking the curb and entrance to the post office impeded my grand exit. Walking around it would require more effort that it was worth, so I splashed right there, kicking up water.
From behind me, Daemon made a noise. "You're like a two year old."
Hopping up on the curb, I cast him a glare at him over my shoulder and then headed into the building. I went straight to my P.O. Box. There was a handful of media mail packages.
"Yay!" I cuddled them close to my chest. I wanted to tear the packages open and see which one held for me inside. There was nothing like getting a book in the mail but not knowing which one it was. I was holding a bunch of Christmas mornings in my arms. Closing the little door, I whipped around.
Daemon waited at the end of the aisle, watching me with that cool green gaze. There was something in the way he watched me that suddenly made me overtly aware of myself. But that emerald gaze wasn't so cool. It was different. Hot. Intense. I thought about the morning after homecoming, waking up in bed with him and the feel...
So not going there.
I brushed past him, resorting back to my ignoring him tactic. We were outside, I also restored back into a two year old and jumped with both feet into the puddle, spraying droplets of water in every which direction.
"Jesus." He jumped to the side, but was too late. The whole left side of his pants leg was soaked.
I shot him a grin as I hurried over to my car, opened up the back door and started showing the packages in the backseat. I knew when he'd joined me. He didn't say anything, which was surprising, because Daemon always had something to say, but I could feel him close.
He made a deep, throaty sound. "I need pancakes."
I stopped shoving the packages into my backseat and looked over my shoulder at him. He was leaning against his SUV, his head tipped back. He was looking at me—no, wait. He wasn't looking at me. His gaze was focused well below the belt.
Hastily, I shut the door and faced him. "Are you staring at my butt?"
Daemon didn't respond, but he slowly, epically slowly, dragged his gaze up to mine. There was an intensity to his gaze, like a physical touch. Parts of my body tingled, more so in some areas than other. Especially when his gaze lingered in certain areas, like the one just south of my neck. By the time his eyes met mine, I was a different kind of puddle in the parking lot, a simmering puddle. A slow curl of his lips caused the muscles in my stomach to flutter. "I would never do such a thing."
I didn't believe him Not at all. And I was irritated, because I didn't like how his look made me feel. I should've been offended. Not turned on. Wait. I totally wasn't turned on. Not at all. He was jerk. A jerk that lit me up like a Vegas strip and had felt me up in his sleep. Total jerk.
Jerk face.
"Pancakes," he said again.
"What is with you and pancakes? Why do you keep saying it?"
"Do you have pancake mix at home?" he asked.
"Yeah, I think so."
"Good." His grin spread. "You're going to make me some pancakes."
I stared at him. "I am not making you pancakes. There's a Waffle House somewhere. You're welcome to go get yourself some pancakes—"
Daemon moved forward so quickly that when I blinked he was suddenly in front of me, and I hated when he moved like that. I also hated how breathless I was because he was right in front of me.
"I know there's a Waffle House nearby, Kitten. But that's not what I want." Raising his hand, he tapped the tip of my nose with one longer finger. "I want you to make me pancakes."
I jerked back, scowling at him. "I'm not making you pancakes."
"You are." Pivoting around, he strolled over to his car door and climbed in. Before he shut the door, he grinned at me. "You are so making me pancakes."
