Fall From Grace by Christine Zolendz Read Free Book Online Page B

his head and wiped the sweat off his forehead with it.
    Oh dear God, he is perfect!  A large black tribal tattoo that began as a dragon at his elbow curled around his right shoulder and traveled onto his shoulder blade.  The thick black tribal strokes exquisitely turning into a dove, wrapping its wings around itself.  His skin was a soft bronze stretched over the ridged hardness of his muscles.  It was completely understandable how girls threw themselves at him.  I pitied him, wondering if he’d ever feel anything more than the sensations of his own skin.
    He got out two plates from the cabinet as if he owned the kitchen.  Geez, how many times has he cooked in this kitchen in the last six months?
    Placing one plate in front of me and another in front of him, he sat down and shoved a fork full of food into his mouth.  “Spinach, mushroom, green pepper and cheese omelet ala Shane,” he said between chews.  “You haven’t answered me.  What is it about me that made you think I can’t cook?”
    I stabbed the omelet with my fork and took a bite.  Crap, it was delicious.  “You just strike me as a shallow person who gets everything they want from other people.  I would have bet that you’ve had a different blonde make you breakfast every morning of your life.”
    He gave me an amused look.  “Well, you’re half right.  I am shallow, but I can cook, and honestly, I like chicks with jet black hair better than blondes,” he laughed.  His icy blue eyes regarded me.  “Well?  Is it good?”
    Best freaking omelet I’ve ever had.  I stopped the words from fumbling out of my mouth.  “Yeah, sure.  Thanks.  I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” I grumbled.
    He shoved another fork full of food in his mouth and chewed.  He leaned forward with a serious expression on his face, “So, what’s the deal with you?  What’s with the intense Shane revulsion?  I’ve never had a girl not jump at the chance with me.  Or, wait, are you into chicks?”
    I laughed at his audacity.  “So you think because I’m not falling for your crap that I’m a lesbian?”
    “Bi?  Maybe just playing hard to get?”
    “You really are full of yourself.  Brace yourself Shane, this might be hard to hear,” I teased.  “But you just don’t do it for me.  Sorry.”
    Shane’s eyes brightened at my words.  “So, who does it for you then?”  He purposefully drew out the words, making me shake my head.
    I stood up and placed my plate into the dishwasher.  I leaned back, rested my elbows on the counter, and thought for a minute.  “Someone who doesn’t think of me as a walking vagina.”
    He howled with laughter.  “A walking vagina!  Oh, shit, if only there was such a thing!”  He was laughing so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.
    I smiled.  “And what’s your deal?  What happened to you making you think that women were put here just to serve you?  Maybe something happened that makes you so insecure that you would be incapable of having a relationship or normal friendship with a girl?”
    His smile faded.  He stared at me with those eyes.  “There’s no deep dark reason, no insecurity, nothing to read into.  I just don’t want anything more from someone.  Ever.  There is no need for it.  Every girl I sleep with knows my intentions clearly.  They want to fuck the lead singer of Mad World, so I give them want they want and get what I want from them.  There’s no need for more.  None of them are worth more than that.”
    That was so sad.
    He stood up, stretched his arms over his head, and yawned loudly.  “So, what do you do?  Where were you living all this time?” he asked, immediately ending his sad monologue.
    I squirmed, not meaning to.  “Jobless at the moment.  I’ve been living with my brother in a hospice for the last few months, so my job was just to trying to make him comfortable.”
    A sympathetic expression passed across his face.  It didn’t fit his self-proclaimed