I nodded, but the feeling of guilt over making such a mess remained.
He picked up the biggest shards with his tentacles and swiped the rest into a dustpan.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” I jumped off and found another piece of glass under the fridge. “I’ll buy a new one—ouch!” My finger oozed blood. Shit, I pricked it.
“I told you to stay put.” Spiro glared at me and sat me back on the counter like a doll, his tentacles picking me up with an ease that was as scary as it was hot.
“It’s my fault! I want to help!”
“Now you’re injured. How bad is it?” His voice was calm, but I was looking for signs of anger.
“It’s nothing.” I crossed my arms.
Spiro put his hand palm up.
I rolled my eyes but placed mine in his.
He inspected the cut. “Can I?”
“Sure,” I agreed, not really understanding what he’d asked about.
He wrapped his lips around my finger and licked it, sending a bolt of heat straight to my groin.
I squeaked. “What are you doing?”
“My saliva is like the slime I produce from my suckers—it has antiseptic qualities, so your cut will get better quickly.” He was trying to calm me down, but all I could do was imagine his tentacles producing a slick substance and what that would mean.
“Oh. I didn’t know that.” My words came out quiet, but I kept my hand in the air, watching him roll his tongue over the cut like it was a slow-motion erotica.
He then eyed the wound and nodded, satisfied. “This will do. It’s already closed. I wouldn’t expect you to know. We’re all different. I had no idea about your dietary needs.”
“My issues are problematic, while yours are useful. They’re not the same.” Would it be weird if I licked my finger to taste him? Yeah, it would.
“Nah. If you don’t assume, but instead ask questions, then you get to know people for who they are.” He pointed at me to stay put and made quick work of the mess, using his tentacles to pick every shard and wipe the floor.
He reached for the mugs on the top shelf with one tentacle, while grabbing the juice from the fridge with another. He dropped a tea bag into the mug and poured boiled water over it. His quick and fluid movements unfolded in a perfectly-choreographed ballet. I could watch him do simple things like that all day and not get bored.
“Come here; I’ll carry you. The floor may still have some shards.” He stood at my side, close enough for our thighs to brush, and put his hand on my knee.
The proximity electrified me, and I wiggled to the edge of the counter. “But what about you?”
“The skin on my body is almost as thick as on my tentacles, so I’m safe from having tiny bits piercing it. Satisfied?”
I nodded and swished my tail in anticipation, trying not to knock anything over with it.
I expected him to step between my parted thighs, but he scooped me up into his tentacles in a bridal carry, walked to the living room effortlessly, and deposited me on the couch as if I were made of delicate porcelain.
Curling my legs under me, I sat at the edge as he took up the rest with all his limbs splayed out.
“What did you plan on doing if I weren’t here?”
“Cooking and catching up on some TV. I had Hell’s Kitchen on when you arrived.”
I shuddered. “That Ramsay guy is scary. Unless he teaches kids. Either way, I hate when people are screaming at me, so it’s not my favorite. Do you normally watch a lot of TV? I love a good binge on a rainy day.” I glanced toward the window. “Or a snowy day.”
Spiro took a white remote from the coffee table and turned on the fireplace. It sprang to life, flickering with flames. “No. I never find the time. This was supposed to be my quiet retreat.”
“Sorry.” I pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and onto my lap. “You’re stuck with me, but I won’t interfere with your plans. What did you want to start with?”
