His Temporary Assistant

“Are you really hungry?”

“Yes.” I had to concentrate on how to use a whisk. The man was ridiculously dangerous for my mental acuity.

The ultra soft cotton of his pants slid across the backs of my thighs, and a decidedly happy Preston was rapidly firming against my backside.

Hello, sir.

Deft fingers teased along skin that was still sensitive from his beard action last night before he dipped two fingers inside and tucked his palm against my clit. His other hand cupped one of my breasts.

“I love when you wear my clothes, but I wouldn’t mind if you left some of your own here.”

My brain short-circuited as pleasure and new data tried to merge. I dro

pped my head back against his chest as he flicked his thumbnail over my nipple while pulsing inside of me with his other hand. “Clothes?”

“Mmm-hmm. I made space in my closet, if that was something you were interested in.”

“Right.” I rolled my hips into his touch. “Wait? Room for what?”

“Your clothes, Ryan. Merging with mine. You know, in a closet kind of way.”

Another swipe from his thumb, then he gentled his touch until my skin was awash with the familiar buzzing of energy right before I started speaking gibberish ending in his name.

He lightly trailed his fingers away from my breast and down my belly. “Make sure you make a little extra. I worked up an appetite last night.” He slid his fingers out of me, nipping my neck before he licked them. “I’ll go grab a quick shower. Think about what I said.”

I gripped the counter. “Okay, good.”

Think about what? I was currently scrambled as the eggs in the bowl before me.

He walked away whistling as I relearned how words worked on the various packages in front of me.

I frowned down at the ham steak. Had he just asked me to leave clothes at his house?

I jumped as the oven beeped to let me know the broiler was ready. Well, that made two of us.

Damn him. He was always sneaky about nudging me into doing what he wanted. “Lawyers,” I muttered and put the ham steaks in to broil.

I washed my hands and heated a pan for the eggs just as my phone rang.

Since no one actually called me, I hurried over to make sure it wasn’t just a spam number. Surprised to see Luna’s name on the screen, I picked up and put her on speaker.

“Hey, girl. What’s up?”

“Ry? Are you home?”

I frowned and turned off the pan. It wasn’t like Luna to sound panicked. “No. I’m at Preston’s.”

“Oh.”

“Is everything okay?”

“No. Yes. Yes and no. Oh, goddess. One second.”

The phone clattered onto something. “Lu? Luna, are you okay?”

I heard water running and a groan before she came back on. “Ugh. I swear, I don’t have anything in my body to throw up, and yet it still keeps coming.”

“Oh, hell. Are you okay? Do you have the flu? I can come over and bring broth or stop at Georgia’s shop for supplies.” Luna’s superpower was making her own elixirs from our friend’s apothecary.