Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)- Kristy Cunning Page 0,44

stop myself, and he smirks down at me.

“I’m giving you the ring to let you know I’m ready when you are. Take your time, Violet. You’ve been rushed into some big decisions, and it seems it’ll only happen more and more. You make life easier on me. I want to return the favor,” he says too seriously.

Obviously I end up kissing him again, mostly because he’s proposing and I’m sucking at being proposed to. I-I just can’t process everything going on all at once.

That snowball needs a small recess between cliffs.

“When can you get out of here?” he asks me, twining his fingers with mine, as he gives me those stupid butterflies only he evokes.

“I’ve got a few hours of work to do.”

“I’ll nap over here, and you wake me when you’re through,” he says, heading toward my library/brewing room/temporary office’s sofa.

After he pulls out a small pouch that he starts shaking out. It shakes out a whole lot. All of that was in that small, vacuum-sealed baggy? Is that a sheet?

Nooo. It’s a sanitary couch liner he’s carefully applying to my public-access sofa.

He turns and gives me a smirk. “See? I can compromise sometimes without complaint.”

I roll my eyes and hide my smile, and after he removes his jacket…and his tie…and his shirt…and his belt…and his pants…and his undershirt…

His undershirt drops to the couch, and I watch as the beautifully polished man, wearing nothing but the boxer-briefs that were designed to humble women.

“Dat ass, though,” Anna says in a stage-whisper next to my ear.

My eyes bounce up from his ass to turn and glare at her, because he so has super hearing.

When I look back over, Vance is hiding a smug look as he finishes neatly stacking his shirt and shoes onto a plastic bag he’s laid out next to the sofa.

How dirty does he think this place is? I bet it’s even cleaner than his place, because Lemon takes pride in keeping a clean house, and she’s found her new favorite clean freaks who enjoy doing it right alongside her.

“What’s on your mind, Violet?” Vance asks me.

“Lemon and how clean she is,” I inform him, crossing my arms over my chest like I’m not absolutely intimidated by how physically perfect Vance Van Helsing is.

He’s smiling at a lot of odd things today.

“How do I know you’re really Vance and not some creepy trickster?” I decide to ask, just to ensure I’m not accidentally drooling over someone who is fucking with my sight or mind.

I’m developing trust issues as well.

He moves to the fireplace and picks up a rusty fire-poker. Right before my very eyes, shiny, pristine silver races from tip to handle, until it’s fully coated.

“Only a Van Helsing can manipulate metal into silver,” he tells me as he props the fire-poker back on the stand. “Any other questions before I take my nap? Or any requests, Violet?”

He drops down to the sofa, crossing his arms behind his head, and damn near luring me into a false sense of security.

I repeat those words in my head before coming to a conclusion.

Maybe I have more trust issues than I realized.

“Just loan me your vagina. It’ll be worth the pain. I’m tougher than you,” Anna says.

I toss salt over my damn shoulder once again, hoping this time she takes the hint.

Vance keeps that devilish grin on his face, as he lets his eyes shut, looking entirely too naked and comfortable on the sofa he’s too long for.

I have no idea how he manages to look so at ease with his legs extended over the end, but he pulls off the lazy, polished sexy with effortless ease.

“If you’re done being the creepy chick who watches their ex-boyfriend sleep, you may want to know Edmond Portocale is here,” Anna says as she pops up right at my side, waggling her eyebrows at me. “To perv or to raise hell? That is the question.”

“I’m not raising hell on Edmond. Mom said it was complicated, so I’m letting her deal with it,” I tell Anna, my eyes not leaving Vance.

My brow furrows when his breathing changes, seeming almost labored with the next breath.

“Have you noticed they always get ready for a fight, but it fizzles out when the chance rolls around? It’s like they’ve lost their fire and their spark over the years, but that’s not really it. They get off on being impervious to things in front of each other. But then they toss their weight around about the weirdest shit. Sans your