Deals With The Devil's Spawn

Your undying loyalty, and adoration will be enough

"Why? Um, well, because I-you're you, and it's just, well...I just...they're not ready," I rambled on, avoiding his eyes.

"You know if I didn't know any better, I would say you don't want me to see your paintings," he replied, raising an eyebrow, suspiciously.

"What? No? What gave it away?" I answered, sarcastically.

"Because mocking me at this exact moment is such a great idea?" He replied, a smug smirk on his lips.

Mustering all my courage, I gave him my best growl, accompanied by my best glare. He gasped, indignantly, his eyes wide with betrayal.

"I can't believe you just used that on me. After I taught you. I am shocked, shocked at your audacity," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Sorry, desperate times call for desperate measures." Standing up, I moved past him and headed to the kitchen, fighting the urge to run to my room and hide under my bed.

"Okay, I'll just go see them on my own." Eyes wide, a gasp escaping my lips, I snapped around and bolted after him. Jumping onto his back, and wrapping my arms around his neck to slow him down, I winced at how suspicious I probably seemed. Great.

He stumbled, and froze in his tracks. We stood in the middle of my living room, him standing stock-still, startled, with me clinging to his back, both legs wrapped around his waist, one hand wrapped around his neck and the other around his head.

There was no way in hell I could let him see what I'd been working on. I would rather have pee dumped on me every day for the rest of my life than to let Brayden in on my embarrassing secret. A secret I'd been keeping for days. I hadn't even shared it with my mom. Brayden was the last person I wanted to know.

Because my newest paintings were all of him.

I know. I know. I'm crazy and delusional. Bonkers. Shit for brains. I just couldn't help myself. Every time I sat down to paint, the only thing that came to mind were his gorgeous blue eyes. And when it wasn't his eyes, it was his lips. Or his hair. His smirk. His stupid knowing grin. And that jaw that made my insides burn. I was doomed.

"You do realize that I can just keep walking if I want to?" he finally spoke up, turning his head slightly to look at me over his shoulder.

I gave him a sheepish smile. "But you won't?"

"How exactly did you think this plan would go for you?" he inquired, letting out a silent laugh.

"I didn't really think about how it would turn out," I replied. "But in my defense, you didn't really give me much of a choice."

"You know I only want to see them more now, right?" he smirked. "I bet they're a bunch of nude portraits of me. Is that why you don't want me to see them, Porter? You've been imagining what I would look like naked? I'm scandalized."

"Have not," I immediately replied, wincing. He threw me a knowing look over his shoulder, making a flow of words leave my lips before I could stop them, "Once. I did once. But in my defense you were shirtless. I mean come on, what was I supposed to do? You were shirtless with water running down your chest. It would be weird if I didn't start to picture...things...oh god..."

"'Oh god' is exactly what I was thinking," he choked out. He cleared his throat, adjusting my legs around his waist, hoisting me up when I began to slip. "Again, are you actively trying to turn me on?"

"Uh no?"

"That would be more convincing if you didn't word it like a question," he replied, shaking his head with a silent laugh. "Well, if you're not going to show me your paintings, then you might as well feed me to make up for it."

"What exactly am I making up for?" I asked, pulling back to give the back of his head an unimpressed look.

"Do you want me to make my way over to that garage, woman? Because I will," be retorded, moving to take a step towards the garage, making me squeak, and tighten my arms around his neck and head.

"Okay, okay, food it is," I relented, sighing in relief when he turned towards the kitchen, and headed there instead of the garage. "You're impossible."

"You said that already," he reminded me, making his way towards the kitchen counter, where he turned, and lowered me onto the cold surface.

Hopping off the counter when he pulled back, I headed towards the refrigerator, and pulled out some bread. "PB&J?"

"Porter Matthews, is that all you know how to make?" he asked, indignant. I turned towards him puzzled. Hadn't I already told him that that's all I could make?

"Yeah?"

He gasped, bringing a hand to his chest and giving me an offended look. "That is unacceptable."

"Okay?" I muttered, wondering if he'd lost his mind.

"I'm going to teach you to cook," he informed me, moving over to the refrigerator, pulling it open and grabbing the ingredients on what I liked to call 'the shelf of misery', it was named that way for a purpose. Anytime I was feeling particularly ballsy, I'd tried using the ingredients on that shelf. Every time I ended up miserable. "No need to thank me. I'm incredibly generous, and your undying loyalty and adoration for me will be enough."

"Or I could just not do that," I suggested, shrugging a shoulder with a smirk. He shot me a look of reproach, and continued pulling stuff out of the refrigerator.

"Have you ever tried chicken cordon bleu?" he asked, absentmindedly, closing the refrigerator door, and moving to stand by the counter, the products he pulled out of the fridge laying in front of him.

"If I can't pronounce it, then I've never had it," I replied, wrinkling my nose. He turned towards me and tapped his finger on my nose, making me smile.

"You're gonna learn today," he grinned. "Alright, my little padawan, can you make an egg wash?"

"Is that the thing were you whisk eggs with a tiny bit of water?" I lifted an eyebrow, giving him a sardonic look.

"I could do without the attitude, smartass," he replied, shaking his head with a grin.

"Why? Can't handle a girl with attitude?" I answered, realizing my mistake a little too late, when his hands froze. I watched with wide eyes, holding my breath, as he placed the knife he was holding on the counter, and turned towards me, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he stalked towards me.

"You know we can always find out," he whispered, as he stepped right into my space, his face inches away from mine. I moved my head back so that I could look at him, his stupid height making me want to growl.

"We could, but-chicken...don't you want to eat some chicken?"

"I have an idea of something else I could eat," he answered, fighting a laugh when my eyes widened. "You make it real easy, Porter."

"Shut up."