Page 34 of Of Poison & Pumpkins
“Just say it, Lord Trondle!”
“Of all the nicknames, you put me in the category with a vampire from TruDeath? Epic. I accept.”
He’s seen my favorite show? “It’s your nickname because that character drives me insane.”
Elias licks his lips, moves a step closer, and cradles both of my elbows in his large hands. His skin feels so good against mine that it should be illegal.
“Just ask me.”
He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and points to Porter. “Was he the man you slept with last week?”
My body heats like a thousand suns. Shit. I pray for him to keep his eyes closed so he won’t see my panicked expression. I gulp, count to three, take a deep breath, then step closer. I can’t believe I’m about to admit this to him. Rising on my tiptoes, I wrap a hand around Elias’s neck and slowly pull him close.
With my mouth by his ear, I whisper, “There’s only one man in this room I want inside me.”
Elias’s eyes snap open, full of fire. His hand wraps around my waist. We’re moving in tandem, like a duo dancing, until my back hits a wall.
“Say that again,” he practically growls, “and use my name.”
I’ve never been so fuckin turned on in my damned life. With one hand braced on the wall over my head, he’s doing ‘the move’—the one reserved for faerie gods in fantasy books. And he has mastered it to perfection. The angle of our bodies is dead-on exquisite. I may be having a heart attack or some other life-ending episode because I can’t breathe. Of all the times I fantasized about Elias kissing me, I never expected it’d come true. Now he’s pinning me against the wall, his lips inches from mine.
“You’re the only man in this room that I want inside me, Elias.” I barely get the words out before his lips are on my neck.
I may have gone to the Kingdom of Angels because holy Sols, holy Stars, holy Luna, this man’s mouth is not mortal. He licks, sucks, and teases my neck gently, so atrociously taunting that I’m not sure what’s real anymore.
“This ok?” he whispers.
“Mhm.”
I want his lips on mine. Need to taste him. The need to claim him outweighs anything else. So, obviously to protect myself, I make one solid rule and beg, “But don’t kiss my lips.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, voice heavy, “I promise. Not till you’re ready.”
Then my phone rings again. I push the button through my pocket as Elias dips to kiss my chest. The vibration starts again. What if it’s a damned emergency? I groan. Of course that would happen the one time Elias is mine.
I gently push his chest away. “Damn it,” I hiss, then pull my phone out. “Hello?”
Orion is on the other end, speaking a mile a minute, and I can barely understand a word. The intensity and urgency in my brother’s voice set me on edge.
“She did WHAT?”
From the bits and pieces I gather during Orion’s rambling, my little sister apparently eloped. I’m not concerned about her new husband’s age, even though he’s forty-seven and Brooke is only twenty-five. What infuriates me is that my new brother-in-law is a Fuzer. It doesn’t make sense. Our whole lives, Brooke has hated me for my magical gene. Why would she marry a Fuzer?
It feels like shadows curl around my heart and squeeze the life out of me. The best plan of action right now is to do nothing, hide away in my apartment, avoid texts, call in sick to work, and get lost under Elias. Something small has shifted inside me as I consider waking up next to this man and trusting him. Would he keep my heart safe?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Elias
The next few days are a whirlwind of tension as cops continue checking on Rynn’s store. We had every intention of visiting the unicorn sanctuary, but since Rynn’s mysterious phone call, she has been conveniently busy. It’d be nice if she trusted me enough to share who called and what they said that put her panties in a twist.
Standing in my store, I glance outside for the hundredth time, in case Rynn crosses my sightline. She doesn’t. In fact, I don’t think she’s stepped outside Palooza at all.
“Hey man, whatever happened to that guy sleeping on your girlfriend’s couch?” Zanther finishes restocking a shelf with pumpkin-shaped pots.
I tear open a package with my teeth and pull out a new order of fifty pumpkin pillowcases. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“You’re still sleeping at her place, right?”
