Chapter 105

"Leftover shrimp creole." I looked at him over my shoulder. He was only an inch away.

His lips curled up. He frowned and shook his head.

"I can make you a steak," I said while staring at his lips.

"Sounds good," he said.

I straightened slowly. It had to be slow because he was so close to me that I would have bumped into him. I concentrated on the task at hand—cooking a steak. There were rib-eyes in the freezer. We kept plenty of meat around because it was blood food.

Paul backed up and looked around.

"You did a good job decorating this place," he said. "Last time I was here it was pretty empty."

I placed the steak into the microwave to defrost and then handed him a bottled water. When he took it he allowed his fingers to graze my fingers. His eyes held me again. Feeling an unfamiliar self-consciousness, I turned away and searched for a skillet to fry the steak. I often wondered if the desire I felt for Paul was only the blood. Now I knew. We hadn't shared blood in over a year