“To be determined,” I squeal, but it’s all I can get out before I throw my head back and scream his name in complete mind-altering ecstasy.
“Yes, Lennox, that’s my girl,” he growls, and then he buries himself and cums hard.
We lie there, sweaty and breathless. I feel almost numb with endorphins and bliss from what he just did to me, and a happy sigh sneaks out easily. “You gotta teach me that thing you did with my blood,” I tell him drowsily.
“Hand over my secret weapon, just like that?” he scoffs, a sneaky smile playing on his kiss-swollen lips. “Come now, Osteomancer, you should know me better than that by now.”
“Mmmm, true. You do like to play things close to the vest. But I’m a quick study, Kendrick, and I will use my powers for evil,” I warn as I wag my eyebrows sinisterly, or at least I think I do, I can’t really feel my face.
He kisses me softly and boops my nose. I slap his hand away and laugh. “Oh no, I didn’t know you were one of those booper weirdos,” I declare, scrunching up my face in disgust. First thebabything and now this? That’s it, I’m outta here,” I tease, not even bothering to move to support my faux outrage.
Rogan laughs and tweaks my nipple.
“Ahh, much better,” I joke, and we both crack up.
“Come on, let’s get cleaned up and talk about fun things like war with the Order and hunting demons.” He pushes off the bed, grabbing my hand and forcing me to come with him despite my protesting groans.
“You cannot fuck me into a jelly-like state and then make me talk about your mom. I’m pretty sure there are rules against that,” I whine.
He ignores me, pulling me into the bathroom, and starts the shower. “If I could get away with never talking about her again, I’d do it happily, but I don’t think we’re going to get that lucky,” he states, studying me as I rummage through the drawers in search of my shower cap.
I’d normally save this sexy look for later in the relationship, but I already washed and dried my curls earlier. I can’t be bothered to do it again so soon. Rogan climbs into the shower and starts to wash off, and I’m struck by the strange intimacy of what we’re doing, and even more surprised by the fact that it doesn’t actually feel strange at all. I pull my polka-dotted cap on, tucking my curls into it, and just watch him for a moment through the glass of the shower. So much has changed, and yet it all just feels the same somehow, which makes zero sense.
I can’t feel like we’ve done this a million times before, because we never have. We should be in the phase where I sneak off early in the morning to fluff my curls and apply the perfect no-makeup makeup look and then proceed to pretend that I naturally wake up that hot. But no, we’re practically at the “poop with the door open while having a conversation” phase, and I both like that and also side-eye it.
“So, what’s going on?” I ask, tilting my head and watching raptly as soap suds start to drip down Rogan’s abs.
I shake my head to try to snap myself out of my ogling as he turns to rinse himself, subsequently cutting off my view of all his front bits.Damn, the dude has an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. I’ve never felt the urge to bite down on a good piece of ass meat before, but I can now no longer claim that to be true. I turn to the mirror and look myself in the eye. My pupils are huge, and my face looks slightly panicked.
Get a hold of yourself, woman. We’ve got serious shit breathing down our necks. Now is not the time to daydream about nibbling on some beefy ass cheeks.
“Why do I suddenly feel a lot of frantic concern coming from you?” Rogan asks, and I look up to find his gaze in the mirror.
“What? No!” I squeak out in a rush. He shoots me a look that tells me he’s not convinced, and I quickly clear my throat and try again. “It’s nothing, and so that we’re clear, it’s also absolutely rude to spy on my insides.”
“Stop projecting them at me then.”
I gasp and press my palm to my chest. “I would never,” I declare adamantly and fake as fuck. He smiles and shakes his head at me.
“Get in here so I can do other things to your insides. The milkmaid thing you’ve got going on is working for me,” he orders, a sultry smile stretched across his lips.
And here I was thinking that my inner fiend was out of control—this guy is insatiable. I return my stare back to my own reflection in the mirror and roll my eyes. Crap. I do look like a milkmaid. Holding up a defensive hand, I turn around and narrow my eyes at his invitation.
“No more sex. We need to figure things out for real, and we can’t do that if I’m trapped on your cock twenty-four seven.”
Rogan raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Trapped?”
“You know what I mean,” I dismiss. “I woke up in a morgue. I had to sneak out of said morgue. And I’m pretty sure you were announcing some kind ofsituationwhen you broke into my aunt’s house and decided to dick me down.”
“Your way with words is truly so eloquent,” he counters with a sly mocking smile.
I flip him off. “Seriously though, how long was I out, and what was the situation that had you risking a Hillen beatdown?”
Rogan’s playfulness drops away, and as grateful as I am that he’s getting back to business, I also hate to see it go.
“You’ve been dead for thirteen days,” he tells me evenly, but his face shows the toll this fact has taken on him.
I feel as though the floor was just yanked out from under my feet. It’s like that trick magicians do where they grab the table cloth and pull it out from under a table full of china. Only instead of sitting unmoved and whole like the plates and cups are supposed to, I feel like I’m falling to the ground, destined to shatter at any moment.
