“Well, to be fair, it’s not the first time you’ve required babysitting.” I meant it as a joke to lighten the air a little, but her expression told me she hadn’t accepted it as such.
Because if looks could kill, I’d be a dead man. “Get out,” she demanded.
“I can’t do that.” I looked over her shoulder. “Besides, now I want a piece of that.”And of you, I wanted to add, but didn’t.
“This isn’t for you,” she retorted.
“I know,” I replied, referring to her and not the food. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting a taste, sweet one.”
Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of scarlet. “No double entendres.”
“I’m an incubus, Guinevere. It’s what I do best.”
She considered that a moment, her lips twitching just enough to tell me I’d entertained her. “Hmm,” she hummed, going back to her cake and dismissing me with another flip of her hair.
I admired her ass as she bent to slip her cake into the oven. It reminded me of a heart. Curvy, perfect, and meant for a man’s hands.
She glanced over her shoulder at me with another scowl. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop taunting me with lust. I know you don’t really want me, Zane. And I don’t need you spiking my hunger just to make a point.”
Yes, I might have claimed that excuse in the past. As her mentor and essential instructor, it was an easy lie to claim I merely wanted to test her mettle.
Deciding a change in topic might suit both of us, I cleared my throat and said, “I know you didn’t kill those humans, Guinevere.”
She straightened in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“I know you didn’t kill them,” I repeated.
“Then why did you accuse me of it?”
I lifted a shoulder. “To test you.”
“Ugh!” She slammed the oven closed and set a timer before stomping off to the bar at the side of her spacious kitchen. She pulled out one glass, not two, and poured herself a healthy dose of red wine. Then she drank several intimidating gulps before spinning around to say, “You’re such an asshole.”
I grinned. “That I am.”
Rather than reply, she just rolled her eyes and continued drinking her wine.
Each swallow had my gaze going to her throat, which of course led my attention lower to her tits and down to the apex between her thighs. She had a body built for sex, making it difficult not to admire her. Just as I knew she had difficulty not admiring me. I, too, was built for a good fuck. And I knew exactly how to use my assets.
She didn’t shy away from my perusal, instead gifting me with one of her own. But rather than blush, she gave me a look of indifference before topping up her wine.
I didn’t like that look.
It was too similar to the one I usually gave her.
I also didn’t appreciate the way she essentially dismissed me again by going about cleaning up the kitchen as though she’d decided just to pretend I didn’t exist.
My jaw ticked.
Guinevere had grown increasingly distant over the last few months, barely even calling me unless she had a death to report. I’d chalked it up to her improving or trying to find a way to avoid me and her little crush. But perhaps I’d misunderstood that distance. Maybe she’d finally decided to move on.
I wasn’t sure I liked that, even though it’d been my goal for over two decades.
I shook my head, clearing it. This was what we both needed. Might as well allow it to prosper since there could be no other alternative. Lust always festered and died anyway, a fact I’d been trying to teach her when I rejected her proclamations of love. Our kind didn’t do long-term or intense feelings. We merely fed. End of discussion.
