Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(90)
“Thank you for everything, Callie. Safe travels, and I’ll see you at the Kids’ Community Center gala?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The witch waved as she started up her car and headed back toward the main road. Rose waited until she lost track of the rear lights. “Let’s get you two back to your mama for a little breakfast, huh?”
She settled the pups into the birthing stall and they immediately tripped over their big feet to get to a waiting Bella. They dove in heartily, pushing aside their brothers and sister with their little rumps until they found their favorite spots.
With a smile, Rose turned—and collided into the chest of a very unsmiling Damian.
He caught her before she tumbled back. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Good morning to you, too, Dr. Pleasant.”
His frown deepened.
“Did you forget I still have a few more service hours to fulfill?” She eased back from his hold because if she didn’t, she’d rub herself all over him like a cat in heat. “And what the hell are you doing with that attitude? Wake up on the wrong side of the hay bale this morning?”
“You should be home resting. You have no business coming in today.” He headed to the office, but not before she saw that jaw muscle ticking away.
She followed. “Actually, I got a clean bill of health from Edie and my doctor. All healed. No residual Gryndor toxin found. I might have a bit of a scar, but they say scars are sexy, right?”
He threw her a glare from behind the desk. “You’re joking about what happened?”
“Yes, and evidently you’re not.” She rounded the corner and perched her ass against the edge. He shifted away enough for her to notice. “What’s going on here?”
“I’m working. Or trying to.”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. After being all weird and cryptic, you leave Edie’s house and then I don’t hear from you for days. You call when you know I’m not around. You stop by long enough for me to answer the door, and then you turn around and leave with a grunt and a lame excuse about something you need to do.”
“I don’t—”
She shot him a glare.
“Okay, so maybe I did a few of those things, but only because you need to focus on your recovery and not on any of my issues.”
“So something is wrong?”
In a retreat, Damian skirted around to the other side of the desk.
Rose flicked her wrist, and hooked her Magic—lasso-style—around his belt loops and reeled him in as if he were a fish on a hook. He protested, sighing her name, but he stopped in front of her.
Sitting on the desk with Damian’s larger body standing between her open legs, she tilted her head up to meet his gaze.
“It’s going to be a busy day, little witch,” Damian warned. “The animals—”
“Won’t be expecting you until their regular feeding time in an hour. Supplies aren’t delivered for another two, and your first clinic appointment isn’t until”—she peered at the desk calendar on which she sat—“after lunch. What other excuses do you want to spew to avoid being alone with me?”
“I’m not avoiding you.” His eye twitched.
“And yet this is the first time we’ve been alone for longer than five seconds in over a week.” She peered at him through her lashes, hoping she looked sexy instead of constipated as she slowly slid her hands up his gray T-shirt. “You, Dr. Adams, are in breach of our FBA contract and if you don’t remedy your actions quickly, you could be in for a whole host of legal problems.”
His lips twitched into a small grin. With a low sigh, he eased closer, his palms running up her jean-clad thighs to cup her ass. He yanked her closer, the move eliciting a little yelp.
“Breach of contract, huh?” Desire lightened his eyes to a beautiful glowing amber. “That sounds like a pretty sticky situation.”
“The stickiest.” Curling her fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt, she drew him closer until their lips were less than an inch apart. “If I were the type, I would’ve already filed a formal complaint.”
“And you’re not the type?”
“Nah. I much prefer overseeing the situation myself with a more hands-on approach.” She brushed her mouth against his in a soft caress. “And this is me handling it … and asking you to handle me.”
Rose half-expected Damian to pull away. To put distance between them like he’d done for the past week. The thought of it left an ache in her chest that nearly hurt worse than that stupid Gryndor talon.
She cared for him far beyond their fuck-buddy arrangement.
Callie had been right. Sometimes temporary things develop roots, and suddenly, Rose wasn’t sure she wasn’t also in breach of the no-attachments clause in their FBA. She’d become a romance cliché, vowing no strings and yet getting caught up in an elaborate Supernatural marionette show.
* * *
Damian needed to tell Rose their arrangement was null and void. It was the smart thing to do, and he’d practiced the speech to his reflection the previous night, but now that she sat in front of him, his hands on her skin and her sweet vanilla scent in his nose?
He couldn’t do it.