“Sarina bit his lower lip. ‘Sweet little fairy,’ she murmured, her voice like a melody. Ashren’s eyebrow arched in amusement. He was neither sweet nor small.”
I curse my audio app’s autoplay feature. I curse Bluetooth technology. I curse the entire concept of wireless speakers.
But mostly, I curse the fact that I can’t remember where I left my phone and can’t use it to turn this off. It could be anywhere. The couch. The kitchen counter. The bathroom. I don’t have time to search the entire cottage.
The fastest way to shut that damn speaker up is to find it and switch it off manually.
“Sorry,” I mutter, dropping to my knees.
“She shimmied down his chest, trailing bites and kisses over his skin. Ashren gasped as he understood her intention.”
I crawl under the bed.
“His body went rigid as he swore softly.”
The speaker sits just out of reach. I drag myself deeper, elbows digging into the hard floor. Dust bunnies tickle my nose. I want to scratch, but the next line of the audiobook prompts me to ignore the itch and plow forward.
“His fingers wove deeper through her hair, gripping tightly, teaching her how to move.”
My fingers close around the metal ball. I fumble for the controls.
“Suddenly, he pulled her away. When she met his gaze, she saw nothing but raw hunger. ‘I can play dirty, too,’ he said, turning her onto her stomach. Raising her hips, he rubbed?—”
I slam the power button.
Blessed silence fills the room. I stay put under the bed and drop my head in my hands. Maybe if I stay hidden long enough, I’ll die of embarrassment and won’t have to face what just happened.
“Faye?” Ryder’s voice is laced with amusement. And something raspier. “You coming out?”
“Would you mind,” I call from under the bed, my words muffled by my palms, “if I never showed my face again?”
He laughs. Actually laughs. “Your students would miss you dearly. Especially Rhys.”
Right. I’m an educator who just subjected a parent to explicit fairy smut.
I shimmy backward, emerging ass first with dust bunnies in my hair and my dignity in tatters. When I stand, brushing off my leggings, Ryder is looking at me with an expression I can’t read. His face is still flushed, but his eyes are bright…
And then—we burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp between chuckles. “I’m so sorry you had to listen to my fairy smut.”
He raises an eyebrow, still grinning. “Is that a thing?”
“Romantasy is a big subgenre.”
“Is that why book club is so popular?”
“We don’t read only romance,” I protest, half smiling, half dying inside. “Sometimes we pick thrillers. Or historical fiction. We have a diverse reading list.”
“Uh-huh.” He’s clearly not convinced.
I press my hands to my hot cheeks. “I’m going to let you finish your job and go die of shame somewhere.”
I’m halfway to the door when his voice stops me.
“If you want to put the book back on,” he says, deadpan, “it was getting to the good part.”
I turn slowly, my mouth dropping open. He’s smirking at me, all casual confidence, even if his ears are still pink.
