Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions Chapter 89

The SUV rolls to a stop in front of my townhouse, and for a moment, I just sit there, staring out the side window. The weight of everything that has happened today still feels too great to process. My head is a mess of too much information and too many emotions all tangled together.

Thane opens the door and steps out, but I don’t move to follow him right away. I’m trying to keep my breath steady and to keep myself grounded. However, the irritation that had bubbled inside me from earlier at the grocery store still lingers at the back of my mind like an infuriating itch.

The cashier at the store... *Yeah, I’m still salty about that.* Thane didn’t encourage it, and he didn’t even acknowledge her flirty tone. But the fact that someone else was interested in him? And right in front of me? It hits me in a way I didn’t expect. I’ve never felt possessive before, but damn, does it sting. I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it does.

I eventually push myself out of the car and step out into the sunshine, taking a deep breath as I force myself to focus on the day ahead. A normal day. A day that’s nothing like the one I’ve had.

Thane and Mike help me gather up the grocery bags, and I can’t help but notice how easily they both handle it. Thane’s movements are fluid and effortless, and it’s like watching a force of nature. The way he stands, the way he carries the bags, even though some of them are heavy, is something poets could write sonnets about. His biceps strain beneath his shirt, but he doesn’t even flinch. And when I catch myself staring, I quickly look away.

It’s crazy how well he’s adapted to all of this. All of it—me, my life, my world. He’s a man who’s used to control, to power, and yet here he is, carrying grocery bags with ease as if he’s been doing it for years. Not exactly the image I had of him when we first met.

Once I’ve unlocked the front door, they follow me in with ease. We reach the kitchen, and after placing his bags on the kitchen island, Mike heads off outside to leave us alone. I’m unpacking the bags when I feel Thane’s gaze on me. It’s quiet and unhurried. But it’s there. And it’s making me feel a certain kind of way, like I’m the only thing he can focus on in this moment.

I’ve got everything in front of me: vegetables, cans, dairy, all that mundane stuff. And yet, I can’t shake the feeling of his presence as he stands in the archway between the kitchen and the living room. Every time I turn to grab something from the counter, I feel him behind me. It’s not a bad thing per se—it’s just...overwhelming.

As soon as I’ve shut the fridge door after packing the last of the perishable stuff away, I hear him step closer to me. His warmth, his presence, fills the space behind me, and then I feel his right hand’s fingers brush along my jawline, light but deliberate, as he pushes a lock of hair behind my ear.

With his left hand on my hip, his voice drops, low and soft, as he says into my ear, “Come home with me for the rest of the afternoon. Let me show you my place, and we can have a late lunch together. I want to treat you.”

Something about the way he says it—like he’s pleading, but not saying it outright—twists something in my chest. My mind immediately goes into overdrive. I want to say no. I want to push him away, because I’m not sure I’m ready for any more of this. But at the same time, there’s this undeniable pull I can’t ignore.

I’m about to open my mouth and politely decline when his eyes meet mine over my shoulder, and suddenly it’s like I can’t breathe. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me—so intense, so raw—that it shuts down every other thought I was trying to have.

“I’ve already got lunch planned out,” I hedge, trying to keep the conversation light. “I could just make it here.”

But he doesn’t relent. “No. Let me treat you, Harley. For once, let me show you what it’s like when I’m the one who takes care of *you*.”

It’s hard to ignore the way the words roll off his tongue. How soft they are. How they almost sound like he’s begging without actually saying it. And damn it, I’m starting to melt a little.

The thoughts that swirl around in my head don’t help, either. I know he’s being sincere, but I also know I’m not ready for any of this. *Yet*, there’s this deep, instinctual part of me that just...wants him.

I look at him for a moment, then at my left hand, which has, without notice, found its way to his, where it’s still holding onto my hip as if it’s a lifeline of sorts. I’m touching him, and I don’t even know why. But my heart suddenly starts racing, like my body’s given in long before my mind has.

I make my decision then, without even fully understanding it. I nod slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

The small smile that spreads across his face could melt glaciers, making his eyes light up. And for the first time since knowing him, I see something like genuine happiness in him. It makes my chest tighten. Because now I’m not just drawn to him physically—I’m drawn to him emotionally, too.

I try to ignore the tiny flutter in my stomach as I grab my bag off the kitchen counter, ready to leave with him. But then I catch myself.

I’m doing this. I’m going to his place.

And as I lead him out of the kitchen and toward the front door, I can’t help but think that maybe, I’m in way deeper than I ever intended to be.