Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
“You can wake me up whenever you want,” I told him, back down to holding his thick wrist. I tried to think about the notice Franklin had given him and decided I really wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Tackling it tomorrow would be soon enough. “I want to come back to the Alaskan people visiting later”—I was going to pretend it wasn’t happening until then—“but did everything go okay with the intruder? Who was it?”
His hand kept going up and down my back, and it felt like he’d spread his fingers. “Two leprechauns. Your gnome fan club has been spreading the word about you. I’m going to need to have a talk with them.”
“Leprechauns?” I squeaked.
“Mm-hmm,” Henri answered, watching me as I pet his wrist and forearm. “They wanted to meet with the ‘fertile one’ they’ve heard about.”
“You don’t think it was the bogeymen?”
“No. The gnomes work at a mine not too far from here, and they somehow told the leprechauns, who also want to procreate, and they decided to give it a shot, even if they ‘got eaten,’” he muttered, not sounding excited about it. “We’re going to have to set up a hotline for you. Maybe when Pascal’s done being grounded he can be your secretary. He’s got good people skills.”
I reeled back. “That’s crazy, Henri,” I told him. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, his expression fond. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. It’s not crazy. Our numbers, as magical beings in general, have gone down a lot in the last century.” Soft lips pressed against my forehead. “Told you your magic is a gift.”
“But that’s not how it works!”
“You tell them that, and they’ll do with it what they want. Nothing wrong with some hope.” His palm went further up right then, and he wrapped his hand around the nape of my neck. “Or maybe it does work that way and you haven’t tried yet. Maybe instead of pinching flames, you blow on them?”
I’d never thought of it like that. Hmm… maybe that was something I could ask Franklin about.
Henri shrugged. “It’s your decision if you want to do anything with it or not. You don’t need to meet anyone you don’t want to. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he emphasized. “If it was up to me, I’d kick everybody out of here that doesn’t belong, especially when they’re looking for you. Eventually, someone’s going to trespass, and I’ll need to make an example out of them, but I’m only being forgiving because I understand how bad some of the magical out there want to continue their lines. I can’t blame them for their desperation.”
“Did you tell the leprechauns to come back?” My most important question was: were they dressed in green? Did they wear little top hats? Sienna was going to scream when I told her about them.
“I told them to come to the gates and they’d get their answer. Otherwise, I’d eat them for dinner.”
“I see.” I smiled and leaned over to press my cheek to the spot where his shoulder met his neck. “You smell good, Fluff,” I murmured.
What had to be his cheek pressed to the side of my head. I could hear him inhaling. The hand on my neck gave it a gentle squeeze. “I think the same about you.” The arms around me closed in. “About the best thing ever.”
“What’s better?” I asked, rubbing the tip of my nose along the tendon of his neck.
“Not better, but I won’t complain about a grilled medium rare T-bone,” he deadpanned.
I laughed. “Thank you?”
Both of his hands smoothed up and down alongside my spine. “I’m hungry right now.”
I slid my own palms over his upper arms. “I never understood that saying about wanting to climb someone like a tree, but I get it now.”
His chuckle was soft and puffy. “You can climb me anytime you want.”
I leaned back and looked at him. He didn’t need to tell me twice. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he’d said before I could do whatever I wanted to him.
Hands flat, I stroked over his arms, over bulging trapezius muscles, and then went forward, briefly holding his powerful pectorals, skimming on down over his ribs, the flat plain of his hard stomach, and meeting his eyes as I trailed a line with my thumbs along the band of his sleep pants.
Henri’s abs flexed when I did that. There was no six-pack or eight-pack, but instead it was all firm, bulky muscle for me to touch, and that’s what I did, holding his rib cage in my palms, dragging my hands up to just beneath his armpits and back down to his waist, grabbing, molding. And it felt so mine I didn’t want to share.
I met those intense eyes. “How do you feel about premarital sex?”