by Mia Downing
“Yes, you have. And they weren’t your downfall, so eat.” I carried the pan to my spot and slid my omelet onto my plate. “How can you be skeptical of eggs?”
“Well. We don’t usually wine and dine our…clients. Usually they already have a goal for their contract, so to speak. If there’s any need for Weston Enterprises, then dinner is the meal of choice.” He took a tiny bite, mulled it around in his mouth, and swallowed. His chocolaty eyes widened as a smile formed. “But I like this.”
“I’m glad I’ve done something right for once.”
“You do lots right, Liv.” His fork jabbed in mid-air toward the omelet. “This is really good. I like the cheese. I don’t recall having eggs with cheese.”
“Your human memories seem to revolve around food. Do you remember what you were as a human?” I took a sip of coffee. “Farmer? Nobleman?”
I never expected an answer, but he paused in eating, thinking. “I was a…painter.”
He’d mentioned that, and I hadn’t believed him. “A painter. Like…houses?”
“No.” He shook his head and stole my coffee, taking a long sip. “I have to think of the words for it. It was a long time ago.”
I snatched my cup from his hand. “Don’t touch my coffee, Leo. Rule one in the house.”
“I thought rule one was no magic.”
“Unless magic refills my cup without asking, leave my coffee is rule one.” I poured fresh coffee from the carafe I’d made earlier. I resumed eating, mulling over how to get him to tell me more. “What did you paint?”
“I was a court painter.” He finished his omelet and stared longingly at mine. “You going to eat all that?”
I didn’t want to give up my omelet, but if that was what it would take to get him to tell me more… I shoved the plate in his direction. “You can have the rest.”
“Thanks.” At least he had some manners as he took my plate and began to devour my perfect omelet with just the right amount of cheese and goo. “A court painter is like today’s photographer. I’d go from noble household to household, castle to castle, and paint the occupants, their pets. Whatever they wished to have immortalized.”
That explained so much from his job at Weston to his enjoyment of my paintings to his love of cerulean blue. “Did you enjoy it?”
He snagged a piece of bacon and gave it a try. His brows flew up as he savored the mouthful, his expression turning to one of pure pleasure. That dish got emptied on his, too, the bacon sliding to his plate with a crunchy thunk. “I think so. Yes. I was good at it, but not the most well-known or sought at first.”
The path to Leo’s own contract negation lit up like a neon sign. “Let me guess…that’s what you sold your soul for. Being renowned.”
“Yes.” Broody brows furrowed over his darkening eyes. “I didn’t do it out of greed, though.”
“No, I’m sure you didn’t.” I’d pushed hard enough, so I gestured to his empty plate. “Are you full?”
“No.” He finished his coffee, the cup thunking down on the table. “But the magic will take care of that.”
“Then why steal my omelet?”
The cloud of upset cleared, dawning into a devilish smile. “Because it tasted good.”
“Beast.”
“I am.” He rose. “Thank you for that. No one has cooked for me.”
“As a demon, sure. I get that.” I cocked my head, dying to know more without coming off as too nosy. “What about as a human?”
His brow screwed up as he remembered. “Not personally. Not like this.”
“Then you’re welcome.” That said a lot about his life. And it gave me a lot of ideas for my war plan.
He rose and straightened his tie, buttoning that top button of his suit. His gaze strayed to mine, his expression turning to one that was unreadable but soft. “Thank you for letting me sleep in your bed.”
My brows shot up. “You’re very grateful this morning.”
“The lack of magic does that to a guy.” He leaned in and kissed me, his hand straying to cup my breast. “I’ll return later.”
“I hope so.”
Thank you, twisted luck.
****
While Leo went off to the salt mines or wherever he went when he worked, I toiled all day in the bridal salon, looking at dresses with my mother. Given it had been me doing the same just a few months ago as the bride…. Well, let’s just say I didn’t have a good time. Thank God I’d never found a dress I really liked.
But my mother found her perfect dress.
It was an ivory, form-fitting sheath over her waist and hips with a draping neckline both front and back. It had sort of a roaring twenties feel to it, and it was perfect for my mother. The ivory coloring warmed her skin and looked great with her blonde hair. She’d always been tall and thin, and the dress gave her curves and made her look stunning. I glowed with pride as she stood on the pedestal, and I tried not to choke on the words as I agreed Samuel would love it. Of course he would. That dress was the beginning of an end.
They wanted me to try dresses, but I had an agenda and no patience for more shopping. I’d promised we could go the next day, kissed her cheek, and went off on my errands.
Phase one of “Humanize Leo” had begun.
Since Leo had liked breakfast, I planned to make dinner, too. I also picked up a few things he’d need while staying at my apartment, manly smelling things like deodorant, shaving supplies, shampoo, and soap. I had no idea what scents he liked, but I liked them. If it made me horny, then he had to like it, right?
The key clicked in the lock exactly at six, the knob on the door turning just as I set the steaming platter on the table. Leo came in, change jingling in a rapid way that said he was disturbed. How funny. In the little time I’d known him, I could tell.
I also knew it was Leo by the swirl of lustful energy that swept upward, circling like horny sharks wanting to mate. I brushed that aside as best as possible.
He stopped a few feet from the kitchen table just as I finished cutting the last piece. “What’s this?”
“Dinner.” I glanced up and smiled despite the dark frown settling as he contemplated the set table. “Not a good day?”
“Well, the magic deported me again mid-meeting, promptly at six to your doorstep. So…no.”
“That’s awkward.” Thank you, magic.
“Samuel won’t be pleased that this has happened again.”
I burnt my finger dishing out a slice of lasagna, and I took a moment to suck it. Leo’s eyes darkened with lust as he watched my mouth, and that sinful energy coursed inside me.
“What does Samuel care?” I asked. “He goes home to my mother every night.”
“He has magic,” he reminded me. “I’m vulnerable without it. He doesn’t like that.”
“Vulnerable how?” As I reached for Leo’s plate, I dropped my gaze. Sure enough, those slacks of his had tented, betraying his arousal. Good. Smug, I went back to dishing dinner. “Are demon Ninjas going to come after you between six and eight? If I’m going to die in my sleep, I have a right to know.”
He snorted, and I got half a smile. “No.”
“Then what’s the worst that will happen?”
The change stopped jingling. He cocked his head and stared at me, those gorgeous chocolate depths boring into my soul. His jaw quirked as he ran a hand over his stubble. An answer lingered in the depths of his eyes, one I’d resell my soul to learn. One he’d fight to keep.
The moment ended as he gestured to his plate filled with steaming food. “So I at least get breakfast and dinner out of this misery?”
Disappointed I wouldn’t learn more, I shrugged. “Are you hungry?”
“I wasn’t until the magic dropped me off.” He inhaled deeply, and his stomach growled with a force that made me giggle.
“Well, good. Sit.” I gestured to his plate. “It’s lasagna. Do you like it?”
“I have no clue.”
“It’s Italian. So are you.” I frowned at t
hat stark white shirt that I didn’t want to have to clean if he got sauce on it. I had no clue if the magic would take over on that front. “Maybe you should change quickly.”
He blinked, stared at his suit, then back at me with confusion. “And put on...what?”
“Didn’t you bring something casual when you had things deported?”
“Yes.”
“How about your jeans and a T-shirt?” The dirty girl in me wanted him that way again, his fine ass cupped in tight denim. Barefoot. In my kitchen. God, he’d be so hot.
That frown widened into an arrogant smile. “Stop drooling.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “Go.”
He returned a few moments later, and I just…drank him in as my heart accelerated. The black T-shirt stretched across his shoulders, fitting to give him just enough definition but leave a little to the imagination. The jeans were perfectly tight, riding low on his hips and encasing firm thighs. I didn’t dare ask to see his ass.
“You want to see my ass?”
I blinked rapidly, fearing the loss of my good luck. “No.”
“Because you’re looking like you did last night when you wanted me to turn around so you could see my ass.”
Well, at least he wasn’t reading my mind. “I guess.”
He shot me a dirty smile and spun slowly, presenting a firm, denim-clad ass I wanted to squeeze. Gah.
“I look good, huh.” It wasn’t a question.
“Do they hand out arrogance in the demon gift bag when you become one?”
“Yep. That and my cufflinks.” He gestured to me. “Aren’t you going to change?”
I glanced down at my leggings and baggy T-shirt that tended to be standard attire on a non-work day. “To?”
That arrogant smile turned predatory. “I want you naked.”
I sucked in a breath, one that seemed to draw the arousal straight from my core to every nerve ending. “I’m not doing that.”
“If I have to sit here without magic and eat food, you’re going to wear what I want.” He cocked his head. “Go strip, put on my dress shirt. I want to know your pussy is bare and waiting for me.”
That shouldn’t excite me more, but fresh wetness flooded my panties on a throb of need. I gaped. More heat flooded my cheeks until I was sure they were beet red. “But I don’t want to get sauce on it. That was the point of changing.”
“Dinner’s waiting,” Leo said softly, his voice seductive. “I’m not eating a bite until you return.”
“Fine,” I huffed.
I didn’t run down the hall to the bedroom, though my feet wanted to. The clothes flew from my body, my hands shaking as I slid into the dress shirt he’d just removed. It still held his warmth, his scent a mix of my soap and his woodsy cologne. His shirt fell to just below my butt, covering all the important stuff, but I felt…sexy.
I returned to the kitchen to find him sitting at his chair but not eating. I couldn’t tell if that was out of politeness or his threat. His head turned, and the heat of his gaze as he took me in intensified that sexy feeling. Those eyes hooded with lust as he indicated for me to turn. I spun slowly, returning to a slow nod of approval.
“Undo the top two buttons,” he said as he picked up his fork.
I slowly undid them until the opening fell to mid-cleavage.
“Sit. Eat.”
I slowly sank into my chair, unsure how he suddenly was the one in charge when this was my house and my twist of luck. But I picked up my fork and began to eat.
I’d poured red wine to go with dinner, and he seemed to like that, too, eating as quickly as the heat levels would allow with a sip of wine now and then in between. I’d pictured us talking over dinner, getting to know each other, him spilling information I could use… And yeah, best laid plans and all that as I ate in silence. In his shirt.
“More,” he grumbled.
I glanced up, surprised, noting his empty plate. “Wow. You are hungry.”
“Yes. I don’t like the feeling.” He looked a little less grumpy as he handed me his plate. He’d left his salad bowl untouched, though.
I scooped more lasagna onto his plate. “Do you like your meal besides being hungry?”
“Yes, actually. I’ll have to tell Samuel. He sort of limits himself to the expensive entrees to impress clients and in observance of our worship.” He frowned at meal as he took it back. “Is this expensive?”
“In the grand scheme of things…no. I mean, it has meat and cheese, so it’s more expensive than some things. But it’s not escargot.” I didn’t want to open a can of worms by asking what they worshiped, so I left that alone.
“Well, no. Escargot is snails.”
I rolled my eyes. “So when your stomach is full, I have presents.”
“Presents.” That furrowed brow returned. I swear he was the most suspicious man I’d ever met. But then, being a demon, I guess he would be suspicious of my motives. “For what reason?”
“A house warming.”
He blinked in confusion. “The house is warm.”
I laughed. “When people move into an apartment or home, there’s a party to celebrate. People bring little gifts and such. It’s called a house warming.”
“We have guests?” He stopped mid-forkful to crane his head, peeking into the living room.
I laughed again. “Would I be dressed in only your shirt if we had guests?”
That dirty grin returned as he dropped his gaze to my cleavage. “I hope to hell so.”
I yanked the shirt closed, my cheeks heating again.
“It won’t be long before you’re naked, Olivia. Or maybe I’ll fuck you in my shirt. I love the idea of running my hands under it, sneaking a nipple through a gap in the buttons… Maybe you’ll ride me again. I really enjoyed how your sweet pussy clenched around me as you came. A beautiful sight to look up to.”
Gulping, I leapt to my feet, unsure what to do with this new flood of moisture that had no panties to contain it. “You about done?”
He glanced down at his empty plate. “Yes. For now. I have a feeling I’ll want to eat again soon.”
“I have dessert for after. Coffee?”
“Please.”
The politeness surprised me as I hit the button on the Keurig on my way to the living room. To be safe, I sat on the recliner with just one butt cheek touching and gestured for him to take the sofa. A pile of brightly wrapped presents sat on the coffee table, waiting.
His brows arched in surprise. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had presents.”
“I like to wrap stuff.” And all humans loved presents. Even the grumpy ones. “Open this one first.”
He shot me another suspicious glance but did as he was told. He surprised me by being one of those who followed the tape seams instead of just ripping into the paper like a madman. But he finally got to the gift, a white mug with his name on it.
“For coffee.” A smile softened his face, his eyes taking on a glint of amusement. “So I don’t steal yours.”
“Yes. Give it to me. I’ll fill it while you open the next one.” I took it from him and jumped up. More paper ripped as I fixed two mugs and returned to the living room, his shirt brushing my upper thighs. I couldn’t help the little sway to my hips as I rounded the table.
He opened the bottle of very manly body wash and inhaled. “That smells good.”
“Better than mine?”
“It will keep Samuel from asking, yes. He’s big on scents.”
I huffed in exasperation. “Does Samuel ask you about everything?”
“When the lines cross over from demon to humanity…yes.” He opened the masculine deodorant and sniffed this, too. “He’ll approve, though.”
So much for the scent making me horny. Now I could think of Samuel’s glare when I inhaled Leo’s scent. I gestured to the last gift. “I hope you like this one.”
Paper tore—he was getting better at this—revealing an art set. I’d assembled assorted papers, pencils, charcoal, and a small set
of watercolors and brushes.
“What’s this?” His hands stilled, and his face seemed to lose color.
“It’s art—”
“I know what it is.” His frown deepened to a glare. “Why?”
Taken aback, I sat a little taller. “You used to paint. I thought you’d enjoy experimenting with it while you’re on magical lock down.”
“I— No.” He shoved the items away as if they were on fire, wiping his hands on his jeans. He shook his head, and my breath caught at the wild mix of emotions crossing his face. “I can’t believe you’d give me these.”
“I don’t understand.”
Agitated, he rose and shoved his hands into his pockets, only no sound came from them. The absence of that familiar jingle scared me. “How would you feel if I gave you a bottle of tequila?”
I shrank away as if he’d slapped me. Though I knew tequila wasn’t all the blame for my downfall, the idea of drinking it again made my blood run cold. I rubbed my goosebump-adorned arms, rubbing away memory of the burn of my signature.
“Yeah.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I sold my soul for art, Olivia. These items”—he nodded at the stack of art essentials—“are my tequila.”
“I’m sorry.” I had no clue what to say. I glanced at the resented items and then back up at him.
His expression changed to a guarded mask of granite that made me feel about two inches tall.
I swallowed and glanced away, ashamed. “Do you want to sit and talk about it?”
“No, I don’t want to talk about it.” He ran a hand through is hair, glowering at the stack on the coffee table and then me. “It was centuries ago. My family is dead, anyway. I couldn’t save them then and discussing this now sure as woodchucks isn’t going to resurrect them.”
“I’m sorry, Leo.” I shoved my sweaty hands between my thighs, my shoulders slumping. “I just…I’m sorry.”
He nodded, his expression stone-cold. “I’m going to go for walk if the magic allows it. I’m not quite sure what else to do, and that seems to be a good decision.”
“Okay.”
The door clicked behind him, and I hoped he’d put on some shoes. Or maybe magic would take pity on him and give him some.