Magic on the Storm - By Devon Monk Page 0,38

trying my best not to listen in to his emotions. “Not even when you wrote me that Dear John note?”

He grimaced. “That was me doubting myself. Doubting if I could keep you safe.”

“How about if you let me keep me safe?” I gingerly placed my fingertips over his heart, felt the soft rhythm there, felt the rise and fall of his chest. But nothing more. No emotions, no thoughts.

“Are you blocking your thoughts and feelings?” I asked.

“Just trying not to project. You?”

I shook my head. “So this is okay?” I dragged my hand down and around his rib cage, my fingers sliding along the waistband of his pants. I wrapped my arm around his back, leaned into him. Still had my towel on too. Go, me.

I felt the tension drain out of him as he exhaled. “This is very okay.” He put his arms around me, pulled me close.

I tucked my head, resting it against his smooth, hard chest. He tipped his head down, not far, and kissed my hair. “Good?” he asked.

I nodded, and rubbed my hand down his spine, massaging the muscles of his wide back as I went, until I finally slid my fingers into the back pocket of his jeans, to keep my hands off any other tempting part of him.

He smiled. My hair caught in the stubble along his jaw.

“Very nice,” I mumbled.

I stood there and savored the sound of his heartbeat, of his breathing. Stood there longer than I should have, and still didn’t want to part. But I didn’t feel trapped with him, and didn’t feel apart from him. I felt like I belonged here. Felt like I was home.

I yawned, and finally pulled away. I didn’t know if it was the whole magic thing, or just the long day, but I was tired. “I need a short nap before the meeting.” I tugged off my towel and let it drop to the floor as I walked over to the bed.

Zayvion inhaled behind me. Oh, right. Naked me, plus half-naked him, plus bed equaled one thing.

I looked over my shoulder.

From the fire in his gaze, I knew exactly what he was thinking.

“A nap,” I repeated, crawling under the covers quick. “I’m tired. You should be tired too.”

Zayvion stalked over to the bed. “Maybe I’ll make it worth your while to stay awake.”

“No. No way. You said we should be careful, remember? You said we might get too close and mixed-up and stuff, remember? Sleep, Jones. Sleep is good.”

He grabbed a fistful of my comforter and tugged. “Promise I’ll be good.”

“Zay . . .”

“Or, if you’d rather, I’ll be bad. Either way works for me.” He tugged a little harder on the blanket, exposing my shoulders and chest. I was losing ground quickly. I scooted down the bed a little and tugged back.

“Here’s an idea,” I said, shifting tactics. “Why don’t you take a nap with me? Nice warm blankets. Nice soft pillow. We could get some sleep. Rest up before the big storm meeting tonight . . .”

His smile faded and all the sexy on-the-prowl was gone. I shouldn’t have brought up the meeting, shouldn’t have let the real world back into this small moment we were sharing.

“I’m sorry—”

“No, you’re right.”

He let go of the comforter and rubbed at the back of his neck. A sound of something falling in the living room made us both glance out into the hall. It was just Stone stacking the alphabet blocks I’d bought him. I knew Stone wasn’t a child, but I was tired of coming home to find all the cups dragged out of my kitchen and stacked in precarious pyramids in the living room. Plus he liked the blocks enough I’d bought him three sets of the things.

They kept him busy.

Stone usually stayed in the apartment during the day. But at night, he came and went as he pleased—opposable thumbs meant doors and windows were not a problem for him. I didn’t know what magical statuary did at night, but since I hadn’t heard of any gargoyle sightings in the news, whatever it was he did, the big lug was discreet about it.

When Zay looked back at me, some of the seriousness was gone. “Move over, woman.”

He crawled under the blankets and hogged the bed.

Note to self: explain that the bed was mine, and I should get more than half of it just on principle alone.

He hadn’t put on his shirt, but still wore his jeans, as if knowing we’d be out of

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