Page 35 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

My hand drifts lower, almost of its own accord. If I just… take the edge off… I can keep a clear head around him.

Yeah. Totally sound logic. Just this once.

I trail my fingers over my slick skin, slipping fingers down into my wet heat, circling my clit, picking up the pace as my body responds. I try to keep my breathy sighs quiet over the noise of the falling water. Heat builds low in my belly as my touch grows bolder.

The hot steam from the shower envelops me as I close my eyes, imagining Graeme’s presence. My mind conjures up his strong, muscular frame stalking into the shower with determined steps.

He presses me against the slick tile wall, trapping my hands with one big hand while his other hand takes control, exploring and commanding as he claims every inch of my skin.

Graeme grabs my shoulders and grunts, turning me to face the wall. His hard body presses against me from behind, his hands roaming down my sides and over my hips. His arousal pushes into the small of my back as he leans in closer…

I let out an involuntary moan at the image.

I imagine him moving one hand up to cup my breast, his fingers teasing my nipple until it hardens under his touch. The other hand tugs at my hair, pulling me back slightly so his warm breath hits my neck.

“Kneel,” he growls in my ear. I remain standing, a smirk on my face as I relish in the thrill of my defiance. I turn to face him, challenging him with a look that only seems to excite him more. Our eyes lock in a battle of wills, but we both know how this game ends—with me on my knees and him victorious.

He tightens his hold on my hair, using it as leverage to pull me closer. My breast is still firmly within his grasp, and I arch into his touch as pleasure builds within me.

“Kneel,” he commands again, while a rough hand drifts lower, teasing me with a few light strokes. This time I comply, kneeling before him, wrapping one hand around his massive length...

The fantasy fades as I sink down onto the cool tile floor, gasping for breath. The rush of water from the shower drowns out my cry as I give in and fall over the edge. Graeme’s name falls from my lips in what I hope is nothing but a whisper.

As the waves of pleasure ebb, I take a deep, shuddering breath and let the hot water wash over me. My limbs are languid and heavy. For a moment, I just lay there, palms pressed against the tile floor, trying to gather my scattered thoughts.

Okay. Okay, I got that out of my system.

Fantasy indulged, itch scratched.

Now I can focus on the actual situation at hand without… distractions. Time to compartmentalize, Ecco.

I snort softly and shake my head, droplets flying from my hair. I quickly finish my shower, refusing to let my mind drift back to heated blue eyes and flexing gray muscles. Nope, not going there again.

Quickly, I pull my clothes on and try not to think about anything, steamy or scary. Unfortunately, thoughts of my upcoming schedule and the chaos this storm is creating keep intruding.

“I need ten more minutes to call Natalie and fill her in,” I shout through the room’s door. “I promise I am fine in here without a babysitter.” From the hallway, I can hear Graeme grunt in assent.

Then I take out my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen. The weight of responsibility settles heavily on my shoulders as I steel myself to make the call I’ve been dreading.

Ring. Ring.

“Ecco? Oh my god, are you okay?” Natalie’s voice is tight, barely concealing her panic. “I read about the magical blizzard online. Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’m fine, Natalie. Really,” I assure her, trying to keep my tone light even as my stomach tightens with uncertainty. “But the situation here is definitely not ideal.”

I launch into an explanation of Elderberry Falls’ magical predicament, how it’s not clear when the storm will lift and we’llbe able to leave. With each word, I can practically hear Natalie’s stress levels rising through the phone.

“I know, it’s a disaster,” I tell her, trying not to panic. I hate letting other people down, and I’m so grateful for what Natalie and my entire team have done for me. “All my media commitments, the interviews and appearances…”

There’s a long silence and I can practically hear Natalie thinking. She takes a deep breath and says, in a clipped tone that I know belies her true feelings, “It’s fine! We’ll pivot to virtual appearances. Phone interviews, video call-ins, anything to keep the momentum going.”

“Are you sure?” I ask her, knowing that we don’t really have any other options.

“It’s not perfect, but it could work,” she concedes, her voice regaining some of its usual confidence. “I’ll start rearranging your schedule, see what we can salvage.”

Relief washes over me. Natalie and I brainstorm solutions, deciding which appearances would work well from afar, and which we should try to reschedule if possible. It feels good to get things organized.

But a small lick of guilt flickers inside me as we talk.

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