He plays along. “We’ll start testing that theory for your project this week.”
My gaze zeroes in on the way he grips his notebook to his chest, the veins that swell in the back of his hand, vanish under his tattoos.
“Yeah,” I say.
Then I hear what he said and I jolt back to awareness with a painful lurch.
“Wait—no. We worked on mine, we got some progress, we didn’t kill each other; now it’s time to bring in your project. We need to make some actual steps toward combining our work before the check-in on Friday.”
Elethior catches my tone with a resigned smile. “I’m guessing I shouldn’t ask how you slept, then.”
Better than I have in weeks, but I woke up and you were gone.
My cheeks burn. “I’m serious, Elethior. That was the agreement, we’d start with my project, then—”
“Thio.”
My words trip over themselves, tongue flicking against my teeth. “What?”
He shrugs. Totallychill. “I’ve had your dick in my mouth. Figure you can call me Thio now.”
How hot can the human body blush and not get internal third-degree burns?
Don’t think about last night.Don’t think about last night.
But I subtly shift how I’m standing, hating how easily my nerve endings flare though I have a very logical reason to be talking to him that has nothing to do withmy dick in his mouth.
His eyes snap to my crotch and a self-satisfied smirk tugs one corner of his lips, rings flashing.
Thenheblushes. Two stripes, perfect lines.
And I remember what I said, how he wouldn’t know if I was wearing anything under my jeans.
I’m not today.
What were we talking about?
“Shit.” I rip my hands through my hair and put my back to him. “We’re going to start on your project. Tell me about your project.”
Heat. Heat’s against my back. The smell of cut greenery.
He crowds in closer to me.
“Sebastian. Look at me.”
I don’t tell him to call meSeb.This isn’t tit for tat. And it definitely isn’t because I like him calling meSebastian,the way his tongue folds around my whole name.
A frustrated snarl builds and I stay facing my desk. I am not a flower and don’t need to be drawn to his sun. “No. We need to have more to present to Davyeras and our advisors this week, and I want us to start on your project before we get too far into any experiments. We have a good amount of funding, but spell components aren’t cheap, and I don’t want to waste anything if it turns out we could’ve doubled up on testing. So talk.”
His heat retracts as he steps away from me.
I exhale a long breath.
“I’m studying the limitations of the energy connection between a conjurer and their conjured item,” he says with no inflection.
I face him, arms still crossed. “Well, that tells me absolutely nothing.”
Elethior—Thio—goes to his workstation, dumps his supplies on his desk, and sits in his chair, swinging it around so he can look up at me. A good few feet of padding stand between us again. My breathing ratchets up, body hating that space and desperately needing it all at once.
