Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

I mean, if I can handle this, I can probably handle
anything, right?
I shout toward the front door, “Come in!” Then I stand
calmly in front of the mirror and wait.
The front door opens and closes. Footsteps echo through
the living room, then stop.
“I’m back here!”
The footsteps start up again. Sloane must be wearing
boots, because it sounds like a moose is clomping through my
house.
I smooth my hands down the bodice of the dress, expecting
to see Sloane’s head pop through the door. But the head that
appears isn’t hers.
Gasping, I whirl around and stare in horror at Kage.
He dwarfs the doorway. He’s in all black again, leather and
denim, combat boots to match. In his big hands is a package, a
brown box sealed with tape.
On his face is a look of open astonishment.
Lips parted, he stares at me. His heated gaze rakes up and
down my body. He exhales in an audible huff.
Feeling like I’ve been caught masturbating spread-eagle on
the kitchen floor, I cover my chest with my arms and cry,
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
“You told me to come in.”
God, that voice. That rich, husky baritone. If I wasn’t so
horrified, I might think it was hot.
“I thought you were someone else!”
His unblinking gaze rakes over me again, head to toe, as
focused and intense as a laser. He moistens his lips.
For some reason, I find that simple gesture both sexy and
menacing.
His voice drops to a growl. “You getting married?”