She huffs in annoyance as she glares at me,yanks her arm away, and in that single moment, my palm itches with the need to feel her skin under mine again. I shake off the feeling. I need to get a grip.
“Well, now, what? You’ve got me in here alone. Don’t tell me you want me to apologize, because that’s not going to happen.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
I take a step back, needing to put some distance between us physically, but that doesn’t stop my mind from drifting to a filthy place.
“What if I want something a little more personal? Private. Less clothed.”
Her face falls, and in that instant, I realize I’ve well and truly fucked up.
If she were any other woman, she’d have giggled and started taking off her clothes. Why, by all the gods, I thought Cassia was that same caliber of woman, I don’t know.
“You unimaginable prick!” Cassia sneers, taking a sharp step toward me. Her eyes shoot venom; the curve of her lips etched with anger. “If you think for one second that I’m going to be your little slut, you’re crazy. I don’t care who you are or what you’re used to, you’re not getting that with me. Just the fact that you’d fix your mouth to say those words is enough for me to know I want nothing to do with you or this fucking establishment. I don’t care how badly I need the job. I’d rather be out on the street than in your presence. Screw this place and screw you.”
She spins away from me and storms toward the door.
I barely have a second to process everything she’s said.
Panic, an emotion I’m not used to feeling, bubbles up in my gut. “Cassia, wait,” I call, but she doesn’t slow. She’s furious.
She’s got good reason to be.
“Cassia,” I shout again, and this time I flash in front of her.
“Holy hell.” She skids to a stop to keep from running into me, clearly startled by my speed. “How the hell did you do that?”
I shake my head, ignoring the question. “Don’t leave. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. But the fact that you thought you could means I’ve given you the wrong impression. The first one is always the one that lasts. I’m not offering whatever you want. I need to get away from here.”
She tries to step around me to reach the door, but I block her path, lifting my hands in a gesture meant to appear non-threatening.
“No, don’t leave. I promise, my words were nothing more than a lapse in judgment. I shouldn’t have said it. Don’t leave.” I clench my jaw before adding, “Please.”
The word tastes like acid on my tongue. I don’t remember the last time I used manners in any way that mattered, and now I’m nearly begging her to stay with me.
This isn’t me. I know for a fact, I’ve never in my long existence never once begged another person, supernatural or not, for anything.
“Why? What do you want, Orpheus?” She sighs, studying me as she waits for an honest answer.
“Someone real.”
“I can be that, but that’s as much as I can promise you. You need to get anything sexual from me out of your mind now, because it’s not going to happen.” She actually wags her finger at me like I’m an errant child she needs to scold.
She can say it all she wants, but there’s no real chance I’m erasing the fantasies that have been building in my mind since last night.
“Of course,” I lie blatantly, gesturing for her to move deeper into my space.
Instead of choosing one of the other chairs in my office, she beelines straight for mine.
My breath catches as she slowly lowers herself into the stiff seat.
“Hmm. It’s much harder than I thought it’d be,” she says softly, testing the fabric beneath her hands.
“It’s softer than the throne in the other room. Granted, a throne isn’t meant for comfort.”
“Tell me about it. I don’t know how you spend all your time sitting on something so uncomfortable.” She shrugs and stands, clearly unaware of the storm that single action has ignited in my mind.
She could have a throne of her own. Right next to mine. I’d make sure it was comfortable. She’d fit perfectly.
