Page 35 of Of Socialites and Prizefights

“I don’t need flattery from you. I get it enough from my suitors.”

“It’s not flattery. It’s facts. If I wanted to flatter you, I’d be comparing you to all the flowers in the garden.”

“Cliché,” Deepa chided teasingly.

“Not just your looks.” Pulling her close, Roz nuzzled the side of Deepa’s jaw, pressing tender kisses to her throat. “Your smell. Your taste. Like honey. Nectar. Ambrosia.” Each word was punctuated with another press of her lips, and Deepa shivered delightedly under her ministrations. “I'm no poet, but I reckon I could describe you better than any of these flowers.”

“Or you could put your mouth to better use,” Deepa suggested breathlessly, and Roz smiled like a wolf against the curve of her neck before taking her advice and moving down her body to drink her in like a worker bee at the cup of a dew-fresh dahlia.

“Wait.” Deepa caught her at the last second, drawing her back up from between her legs. “You didn’t let me return the favour when we were awake. It’s only fair I take my turn.”

“You don’t have to,” Roz began.

“Do you not want me to?” Deepa asked bluntly, to which Roz replied by way of a ruddy blush and a stammer, neither of which were ano. “If you actually don’t want me to,” said Deepa, watching her closely, “then say so. But if you’re only refusing out of some sense that you should be providing for me but not the other way around…”

“There's no obligation,” Roz began again.

“Who do you take me for?” Deepa asked indignantly, and wasted no more time in working open the buttons at the front of Roz’s trousers to slip her hand inside. After that show ofunabashed initiative, Roz had no further protests, and Deepa hungrily swallowed the sounds of her moans as they turned the summer night wet and syrupy.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A TENTATIVE FANTASY IN THE MECHANIC’S SHOP

Roz was warm and solid under her, one hand resting on Deepa’s back over her hair, the other on her thigh just above her knee. Even first thing in the morning, she smelled good, the previous day’s cologne still clinging to her undershirt, mingling with Deepa’s own scent from her bedsheets. Still half asleep and with the leopard not far gone, Deepa buried her face in Roz’s neck to breathe her in.

Evidently, Roz was not her true love, if the curse-magic was at all accurate. But she wassomething, and Deepa liked her, and what she liked, she held onto by whatever means necessary. There was still a chance that Roz only wasn’t her true loveyet.

Under her, Roz exhaled a laugh. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Deepa mumbled in reply, finally sitting up to stretch.

Roz didn’t pretend to do anything other than stare. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than I have in days. I could stay in bed hours longer.”

“I promised to put in an appearance at the garage, or I’d stay,” Roz said regretfully.

Shaking her head, Deepa pushed herself up to her elbows. “It’s just as well. My mother comes for afternoon tea on weekends. Whatever I need to have done, there’s only the morning to do it.”

“Anything exciting?”

“Not remotely. Groceries, tidying up…”

“In that case, would you want to stop by the garage with me? Don’t know that you’d find it too interesting — it’s messy, you know — but…?”

Deepa hardly had to think about it. Visiting a garage wasn’t as good as lounging about in bed all morning, but it meant she got to keep Roz’s company a while longer. “Yes,” she said immediately. “I want to see your work.”

With a nod, Roz sat up, carefully shuffling out from under Deepa’s weight. “You might want to dress down for it,” she said, reaching for her own clothes she’d cast aside the previous night. “If you've got anything that might be construed as dressing down.”

“Why? Are you planning to get me dirty?”

“If only,” Roz returned with a wicked grin, pulling her trousers on. “No, it’s all professionalism over there.”

“Do your colleagues know about your proclivities for women? Or are we going undercover?”

“My family, you mean? We’ve got an understanding.”

“Have you brought girls there before?”

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