“Yeah. Got it covered.” First, I need to get the food cooking. I head to the kitchen, where I grab my electric skillet and dump in the frozen dinner kit I picked up earlier. It’ll cook in about twenty minutes while I return to the bathroom and dry my hair.
I’m used to making do with a small microwave, an electric skillet, and a slow cooker. I do have a single-burner hot plate, too. All things that easily fit in my vehicle, and it means I can live in a hotel room for weeks at a time, if I need to. I have a tiny mini fridge stowed in the closet with the rest of my things. I don’t need it in the apartment, obviously, but as long as I have access to electricity, I’m good. I rarely use my apartment’s stove, unless I’m boiling eggs or cooking pasta or something like that.
While I’m doing that, Dex retrieves a bag of blood from the fridge, and I show him where I keep the four plain coffee mugs I own. Hey, they’re multitaskers. Not like I entertain guests. I have two large refillable water bottles, and the coffee mugs. It’s all I need. Plus, they’re microwaveable. You can also drink wine or liquor from a coffee mug just as well as you can from a fancy glass.
Hey, don’t judge.
I return to the bathroom so I can finish drying my hair. I’ll still need to put my wig on, but I’ll do that after we eat. By the time I emerge from the bathroom with my hair blown dry, he’s finished off three of the bags of blood and is dressed in his jeans, no shirt, and barefoot.
My clit waves her hand in the air, signaling that she hasn’t tapped out yet.
And the church said, “Amen.”I didn’t think he could look any hotter than he did last night in his suit, but I was wrong.
So, soooo wrong. Once he dons the boots, button-up, and vest, he’s going to be lighting fires in lady parts all around Tucson just from spontaneous combustion.
Maybe this was a miscalculation on my part. He’s going to have every goddamned het woman, and more than a few gay men—maybe even some of the straight ones—wanting him tonight.
Except…
I take a deep breath. He agreed not to have sex with or feed off anyone.
I’ve got to trust him, since he hasn’t given me any reason not to trust him.
I receive another of “those” looks from him. “What?” I ask.
“I might not be able to read you, or compel you, but I can sense when something troubles you, love.”
“It’s nothing. You promised you wouldn’t do anything with anyone else tonight, and I need to trust you.”
His expression softens and he walks over to me. When he pulls me against him, that lickable bare chest of his…
Mmmm. Yeah.
“If you would prefer, I can take you to work, speak with Lucius, and then leave and return in plenty of time to pick you up, and we can return to my hotel. Or, I can have John wait for you and drive you, once your shift ends. Then there’s no reason for you to have any concerns.”
I tighten my grip around him. “Yeah, but then you won’t be there, and I won’t be able to walk up to you and kiss you in front of everyone and stakemyclaim onyou.” I tip my head back and stare into his eyes. “It’s silly to do that. We’ll lose more time. Let’s stick to the plan of staying at the club.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yeah.” I rise onto my toes and kiss him. “But bonus boyfriend points to you for making the offer and meaning it.Sir,” I belatedly add.
He smiles. “I can’t wait until the day I hear you upgrade that descriptor.”
“Which one?”
“Boyfriend.” He kisses me again. “Maybe to dominant. Master.Husband.”
That last one makes me gasp, because I both want it, and yet I can’t imagine I’ll ever be that lucky.
He nuzzles the side of my neck—holyhellballs, when did I suddenly become sosensitivethere? “The day you decide you wish to call me the last one will be one of the happiest days of my exceedingly long life.”
24
Eilidh
It’s almostnine p.m. by the time we’re ready to leave. I feel guilty that I’m not already at work. Friday and Saturday are the two busiest nights of the week.
Except seeing Dexter dressed, and wearing those boots—and that leather belt—nearly makes me want to quit right then. I was right—he looks hot as fuck.
