that he doesn’t give a shit at all.
“I’ll, uh...I’ll be in the kitchen...when you’re ready,” he declares, and then just like that, he’s gone. It’s like he couldn’t get out of here fast enough. I plop onto the edge of the bed and let my face fall into my hands.
What am I doing?
I look up to find Hoot and Gibson are gone. Seems like the show is over, or maybe all of this was too much for them, not that I can blame them. It’s too much for me too…or maybe the issue is that it’s not enough? I growl into my hands in exasperation and get up to get dressed.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid, Leni. What are you thinking? You want to fuck him, but you don’t trust him. You want to get lost in the feel of him, but at what cost?” I ask myself as I step into my underwear and wiggle into a pair of jeans.
How can I so easily forgive what’s happened between us, what brought me here in the first place? Gibson is his ex-familiar because he made me his against my will. He tethered us together with no thought as to how I would feel about it. He can claim it’s all for the greater good, and maybe it was, but it doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t excuse the violation. And now, I what...think we’re somehow going to find happily ever after in missing witches, Order attacks, secrecy, and lies?
I shake my head as I hook my bra together behind my back. No. It doesn’t matter that sex with him would probably be epic. It’s a distraction that we don’t have time for. I pull a shirt on, fluffing my disgruntled curls as I search for my shoes. Nope. Just going to pretend like this never happened. So he saw me naked, who cares? I love what I’m working with, so no shame there. Yes, he took a bush to the face. It’s unfortunate, but there’s no getting around it now. I’m sure we can both behave like civilized adults and just never talk about it again.
Yep. Solid plan.
My stomach growls, and I know there’s no avoiding the kitchen. Crap. Please don’t let me turn beet red as soon as I see him, I plead with myself, pulling on my big girl panties and heading down to the kitchen. I take the stairs a little louder than usual, announcing to Rogan that I’m coming and it’s time to prepare for his role in Operation Avoidance.
“Hey,” I offer casually as I pass the kitchen island, making a beeline for the fancy coffee machine. Dammit. I still don’t know how to make it submit.
“Hey,” he offers back, taking the large mug from my hand without missing a beat and getting to work making me a delicious cup of decadent brew.
I give him room to sweet talk the machine and grab a seat at the island. I look around the kitchen to try and figure out what time it is, but there isn’t a clock anywhere. Note to self, get Rogan a clock.
“How long was I out?” I ask, taking in his jeans and T-shirt. It’s definitely the middle of the night, but he’s dressed and ready to go, which is a little odd.
“It’s just past four in the morning,” he tells me as the coffee machine starts gurgling and making noises that tell me a hot cup of joe is not too far away.
“Oh, I feel like I’ve been asleep forever, but I’ll take a handful of hours,” I note with a shrug.
“No, it’s four in the morning on Wednesday. You’ve been asleep for more than a day,” he reveals casually as he opens the fridge and pulls out those fancy syrups and things that I used to think people could only get at a legit coffee shop. I wonder if Riggs is his supplier. I’ll have to get in on that if he is.
“Wait. What?” I squeak out in surprise as what he says registers. How did I crash for that long? “What about the meeting with the coven? Did Marx come tell us what the hell is going on? Did I miss anything else?” I fire at him, not even stopping to reload the air in my lungs as worry sends my pulse galloping.
Rogan hands me a large cup filled with liquid salvation, but I’m too shocked and worried to dunk my face in it like I normally would.
“I rescheduled the meeting with the