Page 30 of The Devil and the Dancer
Dear glorious fuck, it was even better than the night before. He felt randy as a schoolboy, and all he could think wasChloe, cock, good.
Chloe was laughing against his chest. “I swear, no one curses like a Scotsman.”
“I have no idea what I just said.”
“In all honesty, neither do I, but I think I’m flattered?”
“Ye should be.” He groaned. “Dammit, woman.” He leaned over and kissed her senseless. “You undo me, Miss Reardon.”
Her breath hitched. “Gavin.”
“Yes?” He began to move slowly back and forth, running his fingers across the top of her thighs.
“Nothing.” She threw her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. Then she whispered in his ear, “You undo me too.”
He satat the counter in the trousers Chloe had dried for him, meticulously sorting through his emails as she finished cooking dinner. He forwarded most of the messages to Veronica. He deleted others. Answered one himself.
Chloe was making meatballs as a marinara sauce simmered on the stove and Halsey sang in the background.
Gavin glanced at the voice mails. Two from Veronica, three from Renard. One from Cormac and another from the manager at the Bat and the Barrel.
He set his phone on the counter. “Notepaper?”
“Notepaper? So old-fashioned.”
“Well, in case you weren’t aware of it, Miss Reardon, I am the definition of old-fashioned.”
“You?” She smiled. “I hang out with people thousands of years older than you.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Pencils and Post-its in the drawer by the phone.”
“Thanks.” He walked over, kissing her shoulder as he passed her. “Good to know I’m not too old for you.”
“Well, you are. But you’re too old for pretty much anyone with a regular pulse. I can’t hold it against you.”
“I beg to differ, dove.” He ran a hand over the curve of her ass. “Hold it all against me, and I’ll thank you for the pleasure.”
He walked back to the kitchen while she was laughing at him. Gavin set his phone to speaker and listened to the voice mail from his manager first. The manager had a simple ordering question. Gavin texted him before he moved to the voice mail from Cormac. He didn’t listen to that one on speaker.
Cormac was wondering who the fuck Renard was and why the man was calling him like they were friends. Cormac hadn’t given anyone his number. How had Renard even gotten it?
Gavin pressed his eyes shut and sighed.
“Problem with the bar?”
“Problem with Vivian.” He called Cormac immediately. “Sorry, old man.”
“Who the fuck is this guy, and how did he get my number?”
“Vivian’s day man. I did not give your number to him, and I have no idea how he got it.”
“I have to change my number again.” Cormac growled. “I really hate changing my number, Gavin.”
“Give me half an hour. He won’t bother you again.”
Cormac was silent.
“Would I say it if it wasn’t true?”
“Half an hour.” Cormac hung up.
