“This isn’t supposed to be sexy things. This is supposed to be scientific.”
“Pretty sure magic that makes you not turn into a demon when you doink someone is the opposite of science. And even if it wasn’t, you’ve seen my whole downstairs business, Jack. You’ve had your whole face in it.”
“Yeah and I shouldn’t have done that. Because doing it has apparently escalated things to the point where I have to look at a wall just to come down from the sight of your naked shoulders. And your naked arms. And your naked thighs, oh man, your thighs were very naked. Very naked and so soft and sweet. Even just that glimpse of them over the top of those stockings—”
He cut himself off, jaw clenching. Clearly annoyed that he’d gone there, and now didn’t know how to get back out. He was stuck in a cul-de-sac of liking what he’d seen and enjoying it still, so deeply that she couldn’t deny it. Somehow, he did want her. Not just her advice, buther. And that made everything both dangerous and utterly thrilling. So thrilling in fact that she stepped forward, tools raised.
Much to his horror. He held up a hand, shifted back on the bed. “Whoa, whoa, hold on there, you’re gonnapainton me? With a brush? And something slick?” he gasped. And what was she gonna say? No?
“Well, I just thought that would work best. That it would get results.”
“Sure, if you want to kill me. I thought you were gonna use apen. That scratchy, cheap pen. The one that’ll feel like Hell. And I should know what Hell feels like, because I actually lived there for eons.”
Thatstopped her in her tracks.
Or, at least, it stopped her conversationally.
She didn’t stop slyly moving toward him as she answered.
“So it was bad for you there, then.”
“I mean, it wasn’t great. Lotta metaphysically hard beds to lie on. Lotta torture going on. You don’t live up to your quota, you’re getting some kind of lashing. And it’s not hot like people think. It’s cold, and not in the glacial way. In the way that creeps into your soul. Swear to gosh when I first got to stay here, I fell in love with electric blankets and bonfires and big cable-knit sweaters.”
“Is that why you always wear an undershirt?”
“You bet it is. I’d wear ten of them if I could get away with it.”
“But you can get away with it with me. I want you to be comfy. I want you to feel good. I want you to have all the things you never did, and enjoy every one, and not ever feel bad about that,” she said, now so close to him she could easily reach out and touch him. He didn’t even seem to notice when she did.
He glanced away, just as she lowered the brush to the bared nape of his neck.
He started speaking a moment before it touched. “That’s nice of you to say, honey, bu—oh dear lord, that’sunbelievable. Oh, you sneaky thing, holy shit, I felt that right to the roots of my hair. What was that? What did you write? Because there is no way it could possibly bestay human. Come on, confess, you wrotemake his spine melt right out his back,” he groaned, slapping at the place she’d brushed as he did.
But he was being ridiculous.
She’d barely done a thing.
“Even though nothing happened.”
“Except me losing all feeling in my knees.”
“It can’t possibly be that intense. Here, let me just try ag—” she started to say, brush going to the place where she’d only so far made a single stroke. But this time he didn’t just put up his hands. He stood up. He backed away.
“Hey, whoa. Let’s just talk about this,” he said.
“It’s not a gun, Jack. It’s just a brush. And it didn’t make you hulk out.”
“I don’t care if it did or not. I want to just take a second here. Just a second.”
Why, she went to say, baffled. Because if he wasn’t reverting to demon form, and they’d agreed this was a good idea, and he obviously wanted her, it didn’t seem like there should be a problem. Especially when this was so much less than all the things they’d done before. He had touched her in her most intimate places.
He hadlickedher there.
He had done things to her th—
She stopped dead, mid-thought. That one word suddenly looming in her mind.Her, her, her, he had done things toher. Butshehad never done things tohim. She had never done more than put a hand on his. Or clutch his shoulder. Or rub his back. And none of those things had been particularly sensuous.
They’d been rough. Or almost friendly.
