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“I even got my granny to agree to be there,” Kirian goes on, his voice thick, and I realize I’m staring at places I shouldn’t. “I hope that’s okay.”
I level my gaze on his neck because I’m too embarrassed to look at his face. I’m afraid he’ll know what I’m thinking about—all the non-vanilla thoughts that are coursing through my brain and body. I’m afraid he’ll know my jeans are wet. Like, very wet, and not near the ankles either, from stepping in random puddles on my way here. No, I mean between the legs wet. And hot. However, it’s not just wetness going on because there’s heat pooling there too, and some incessant throbbing.
Okay, if I can get my head into the software game, that would be good.
This is what comes from lack of sleep, being god-body hot, having sword fighting muscles, a non five o’clock five o’clock shadow, and an extremely nice neck. Like who has a nice neck? How is that even a thing?
Great, now my hands and legs are shaking. My nipples might even be shaking, getting ready to turn themselves freaking inside out.
“Y…yeah,” I stammer. “T…that’s fine. The more, the merrier, right?” I close my eyes and curse myself. I also close them so I can stop staring at Kirian and having inappropriate bodily responses.
“Okay, as long as you won’t be overwhelmed. Because they’re a lot when they’re together, did I mention that?”
“I think you might have.” My eyes are still closed.
“And Toren is going to get a cake. We can’t have a meeting with granny and everyone there and not have a cake. It’s kind of tradition. I’ll make sure you get initiated into the licking.”
Oh, sweet whipped garlic mashed potatoes, is he talking about licking? Why is he talking about licking? And what’s this about initiating me into licking? Holy mother of—
“Licking the cake,” Kirian says thickly as if he can hear my thoughts screaming out of my head. “It’s a bit of a family tradition. Granny used to have cakes for these things when we were all kids, and we’d always try and sneak in and spoil it by licking it. We all swap germs anyway as a family being in close confines, so no one ever got too upset about it. But it was a huge thing for us kids—a challenge we just couldn’t set down. It was probably a thing for the adults, too, to see if they could keep it away from us so we couldn’t lick or spoil the cake. Over the years, it’s gotten pretty creative.”
I'd like to see how you could creatively lick me. In non-vanilla ways. “Uh, I bet.”
“I don’t know if it’ll be chocolate or vanilla.”
“What?” My eyes fly open sharply. He can’t hear my thoughts, can he? Oh god, does the curse connect us telepathically, and he knows it, but I haven’t realized it yet?
“The frosting. I don’t know if it will be chocolate or vanilla. Or the cake. It could be red velvet, golden, rainbow-colored with sprinkles, or even cherry. Toren’s quite creative. He knows we’ll be up for the challenge, so I’m sure he’ll pick out something fun and entirely lickable.”
I sink into the desk chair behind the huge glass desk with all the laptops and phones while I grind my teeth to keep the massive internal groan inside me. I think if it came out, it would sound like a belch or maybe a fart. Kirian possibly hearing my thoughts is bad enough. I don’t need him hearing my body’s groaning sounds too.
He takes the hint. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Thanks for this. You have no idea what it means to me. This is…well, this security system is kind of a big deal for me. Years of work have gone into it.”
“No problem,” I squeak, my voice somewhere between a mouse’s squeak and someone getting their balls caught in a trap meant for the said mouse. Because, you know, things happen, and it’s possible. Someone can trip and fall balls first into a set trap in the middle of the night.
Kirian disappears, leaving me with the scent of his heady cologne, the memory of his delicious stubble, his piercing blue eyes, his muscular body, and thoughts about licking things that most assuredly aren’t cake.
Oh, and the image of a mousetrap on balls.
Christ. I don’t know when I turned into such a mess.
CHAPTER 8
Kirian
My house is nothing compared to Granny’s, but it’s big, three stories, old, and it does have a winding turret on the side that kind of makes it look medieval. The interior has been completely redone, and not much of the Victorian style remains inside. I’ve never been a big fan of wood, and when I bought the place, it was already modern. Someone had already taken out all the original hardwood and the trims around the fireplaces and doorways.
