“It’s literally the second worst word in the romance-novel dictionary aftermoist.”
“Ambrosia Divine would disagree. In fact, if I pulled one of her books off the shelf right now and flipped to a random page, I bet I could find a sexy scene with the words loadandmoist.” Devlin presses his hand to his heart again, voice softening to a breathy impersonation of Ambrosia. “Days after their tragic farewell,again, which he should’ve seen coming but never does because his brains are in his balls, Lennox lay alone in their very special hayloft, naked, hay poking his most tender orifices. Just beyond the scent of his own desperation, and a good bit of cow shit, he could still smell Savannah’s perfume, could still feel her warmth in all that soiled hay. He recalled the way her body glistened in the moonlight that first time, the soft curve of her breast against his mouth, the tight, silken feel as he slid into her hidden depths, his balls tightening, begging for release, and now he stroked himself harder, faster, right there,sofucking close, and then…mmmmfuuuuck!He spilled his moist, aching load all over the hay and—”
I smack him dead in the face with my pillow. “Get out. Right now.”
“But we’ve only just reached the good part!”
“No! This is not a good part! Mr. Wiggles is silent, which means you’ve offended him so grievously he’ll probably never work again.”
“Perhaps Mr. Wiggles is just jealous of Lennox’s moist—”
“Donotfinish that sentence. You are hereby banned from ad-libbing any new romance scenes. As well as reading the existing ones.”
“You wound me, Violet.” Devlin pulls a frown. “Reading together is one of our most cherished pastimes.”
“Not anymore. Now it’s going into cold storage, where it will never be spoken of again.”
“Lennox Steele will find a way back into your heart. His war-hardened love and/or manly appendages will not be thwarted so easily. Not by Savannah’s questionable loyalty or the sound of mating bovines in the barn below, and certainly not by a stubborn little tea witch trying to face off with the Devil in a battle of wills she’s destined to lose, if for no other reason than she’s naked on the lower half whileIhave retained my pants throughout the entirety of this conversation, so who’s in a better battle stance now, hmm?”
He’s got me cracking up so hard there’s no room left for embarrassment—barely even room for air—which is so freakingDevlinof him I shouldn’t be surprised.
Yet somehow, Iamsurprised. Every day, it’s something new. Another layer peeled back. Another ridiculously fun moment. Another glimpse at an immortal man longing for understanding and connection, just like the rest of us mere mortals.
“Thanks,” I say, finally catching my breath. “For the laughsandthe gallant rescue attempt, even though it wasn’t needed.”
“Yes, I very nearly saved you from another orgasm. What a gent, happy to oblige, I’ll be sure to send you a bill.” He salutes, then gestures for me to lean forward, replacing the pillow I smacked him with behind my head. “But Violet, really. If you insist on screamingmyname during your evening rituals, perhaps—”
“Oh my goddess, getout!”
“I’m just saying, perhaps you might wait until I’m well out of earshot? In the shower, or focused on some other task, preferably while wearing Violet-orgasm-canceling headphones? Just so we avoid another miscommunication? On the other hand…” He reaches under the bottom of the blanket and finds my foot, pressing his thumb into the arch in that oh-so-perfect way of his. “There may be another solution to this. One that doesn’t require batteries.”
“Oh, I can’twaitto hear this.”
His fingers draw delicate patterns over my heel, then my ankle, slowly trailing up my calf, sending shockwaves of pleasure racing up my leg. “We don’t have access to a hayloft, but—”
“So magnanimous!” I kick him away and yank my foot back under the blanket, out of reach from his too-hot touch. “So chivalrous! I’ll call Mayor Singh tomorrow, see if I might get you the key to the city!”
“Mock if you must, but the offer stands.” He finally rises from the bed, then double checks my phone charger and blows out my candles—safety first. “I’ll be right outside the door if you need me. Literally right there—I’ll just go ahead and move the couch a bit closer so I can shorten the distance. Get here faster in your time of need, should such a need arise again, which I’m sure it will, what with Mr. Wiggles’ naughty temperament.”
“For the last time, goaway.” Laughing, I slink down into the blankets and burrow in. “I need sleep. I have to get up early tomorrow.”
“I thought we were closed tomorrow. Your one day off for the month.”
“Kettle’s closed. But I’ve got knitting circle with the aunts on the last Sunday of the month.”
His eyebrows jump—both of them at the same time—possibly a first. “Youknit?”
“Don’t look so shocked! I’m a witch of many talents.”
“I’m well aware. I just didn’t realize knitting was one of them.”
“I didn’t say I was anygoodat it. But the aunts let me and Emmie participate because I make the tea and Emmie brings the treats and they love trying to teach us so-called ‘kids’ their magical, mysterious, old-lady ways, and—no. Devlin, justno.”
“No, what? I haven’t even said anything!”
“You’re saying it with your eyes, and I’m responding with my lips: no freaking way are you coming to knitting circle.”
“You’ve kept me in the closet long enough, Violet. Any longer, and I’ll start to think you’re ashamed of our affair.”
