Falling For My Alpha Stepsister (GL)
Chapter 16: What In The World Was Happening To Me?

Chapter 16: What In The World Was Happening To Me?

I knew she was going to say something unreasonable.

I did not wait for her to continue. I just stood up and looked for another location to read...

The storeroom.

When I got home, Angel happened to be waiting for me despite how late it was.

She had an apron on, which had half of a love heart on it.

"Finally, you are here. Why are you this late? I thought you closed by 6 p.m.," she said, dragging my hand toward the kitchen.

"Hey, at least let me change my clothes first... Or take a quick shower," I said..

Then she stopped and looked at me.

Her long wine-colored bangs fell into her eyes as she snapped her head back toward me, her jaw clenched tight as she scanned my wrinkled work clothes.

"No. Let’s cook together, then you can go take your so-called shower,"

She dismissed my complaint with a lazy flick of her wrist, her grip tightening on my arm as she pushed open the door to the kitchen area.

"This is really not how one gets affection. You won’t get my affection from all this," I said.

I pulled my shoulders back, keeping my voice as cold and sharp as possible to show her that her aggressive little domestic routine wasn’t working on me at all.

"Who the fuck wants your affection? You already said do everything in the book and I get to bang you... so let’s cook, then you go take your shower, and we will eat together."

She threw her head back with a short, irritated bark of a laugh, her crimson eyes flashing with that familiar, predatory heat as she leaned her tall frame into my personal space.

I seriously, seriously fucked up.

This is getting too fast, and by the end of the road she might win.

"I need affection to have sex with someone... and I am not getting any from you," I said.

I backed up against the edge of the kitchen island, my hands coming up to press against her chest to keep her from stepping any closer to my body.

"What do you mean by that? Are you trying to create loopholes? Because that is what it seems like. A deal is a deal... there is no changing or turning back."

She really was stubborn, and I couldn’t find a way to twist the game because, from what I was seeing, I might be losing my virginity in a few days.

I should have really thought about this over and over before playing this kind of game.

I don’t want to become another body count for Angel Morningstar.

So I was given an apron similar to the one Angel had on.

She dropped a piece of cloth over my head, the ties wrapping around my waist with a quick, rough tug that brought our bodies inches apart for a brief second.

I looked down at my chest, my face turning a bright, furious pink as I saw how the two separate pieces of fabric would perfectly align if we stood side by side against the counter.

"So, what are we making?" I said.

I forced my voice to sound flat and bored, picking up a stainless-steel pot from the rack just to give my trembling fingers something useful to hold onto.

"What they are cooking," Angel said, showing me the picture of the couple in the book, who happened to be wearing the same aprons as us.

"Pancakes?" I muttered, and she nodded.

I stared at the illustrated stack of fluffy batter and syrup, my eyebrows pulling together in immediate distaste as my stomach let out another growl.

"I am not eating pancakes for dinner. Let’s cook something else."

I set the pot down with a sharp clatter, crossing my arms over the stupid half-heart apron and refusing to take a single step toward the mixing bowl.

"Okay, I knew you were going to say that because it looked lame. Who eats pancakes for dinner? So we are making mac and cheese... your favorite."

A sudden, knowing smirk returned to her lips, her husky tone softening just a fraction as she pulled a massive block of cheddar cheese and a box of pasta out from the pantry shelf.

"My favorite?"

My jaw dropped slightly, my eyes wide behind my lenses as I stared at the ingredients laid out across the marble counter.

I hate to admit she happened to be telling the truth.

Katie doesn’t know I like mac and cheese, so how did she?

My mind instantly eliminated my coworker from the suspect list, since I had never once shared my private food habits with anyone at the workplace.

"How did you know I like mac and cheese?" I asked.

"I called your mom and asked her what you like to eat, and she happily told me."

She ripped the plastic packaging off the cheese block with a clean, effortless snap, her crimson eyes tracking my shocked expression with pure satisfaction.

"You called my mom?"

"Yes, I just said that. It’s getting late. Let’s start cooking."

Angel was really, really going too far.

This girl had never once called my mom on a normal day just to talk to her.

Even the other day, when she said she was going to call my mom on me, I knew she was bluffing.

This girl was really desperate.

The raw intensity of her competitive drive was completely terrifying, proving that she would literally do anything to win this bet and break my pride.

So together we made mac and cheese.

The kitchen filled with the loud, rhythmic scraping sound of metal against cheese, mixed with the soft, bubbling sound of the white water heating up on the burner.

She grated the cheese while I pre-cooked the pasta.

I kept my back turned to her as much as possible, focusing entirely on dropping the macaroni shells into the boiling pot with a wooden spoon.

"Do you want me to help grate the remaining cheese?" I asked.

I turned around, wiping my damp palms against the sides of my apron as I looked at the massive pile of yellow shreds accumulating on the cutting board.

"Sure."

I did say help grate the cheese, not join me and do it together.

The second my fingers touched the handle, a heavy, warm presence materialized right behind my shoulder, completely trapping me against the counter space.

Before I knew it, Angel was holding my hands, demonstrating how to grate the cheese like I was some dummy who had no idea how to grate fucking cheese.

As she showed me, she kept talking in that her husky tone, saying I was doing good and that I should keep going, while still holding my hands.

Her husky voice vibrated right against the nape of my neck, the low words sending a fierce, uncontrollable shiver straight down my spine as our movements synchronized over the cutting board.

Every time she leaned in to check the angle of the cheese block, her hair brushed against my cheek, her scent of rich cedarwood and clean bubble soap filling my senses completely.

What felt like a few seconds felt like minutes because everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Something was sparkling inside me.

My hands were trembling.

I had to escape her grip to stop whatever was happening.

The sheer intensity of the physical contact was pushing me right over the edge, my brain screaming at me to pull away before I completely lost my mind to the feeling.

"I think you can mix the cheese and the pasta. I have to go and take a shower."

The words tumbled out of my mouth in a breathless, frantic rush as I violently ripped my hands free from her warm hold, dropping the grater onto the board with a loud clatter.

I said, immediately dashing out of the kitchen.

The moment I entered my bedroom, I finally released my breath.

What in the world was happening to me?