“Are you two having an affair? With that much passion, you can’t be married.”
The question caught me off guard, and I stood there, struck dumb.
“Yes,” Asa confided with utter seriousness. “I hope that’s all right.” He gazed at me, full of mischief. “I’m going to marry this one, one day. As soon as the divorce goes through.”
“I’m sorry your previous marriage didn’t work out, but it’s clearly for the best. You two are magic together.” She held open the door. “Come on in, and I’ll get your room key.”
Face pressed into Asa’s side, I whispered, “I’m sorry to hear about your previous marriage too.”
“Yes, well, my wife had an affair with a fish farmer. I’m vegan, so the betrayal was twice as painful.”
There was a familiar element about the story he was telling, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Then it hit me.
That was the plot of the last improbable shifter novel I read, one about an octopus and a manatee.
I knew he had been reading over my shoulder, and he cast himself in the role of the wronged manatee.
“When you roe, you roe, I guess.” I patted his hand. “What can you do?”
Before he could hit me with a zinger about fish eggs, the woman waved us into the home.
“I’m Lucy March,” she introduced herself in the living room turned lobby. She hustled to a spindly chair set before an antique desk with a hutch full of keys that acted as the check-in area. “I live just down there.” She pointed to a door at the end of the hall. “You’re welcome to use the kitchen, but it’s a shared space. There are rules posted on the fridge.” She smiled as she passed over our key, an actual metal one plucked off its hook. “Enjoy yourselves.”
“We will,” Asa promised her, drawing me against him in a clench pose. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
I didn’t have to fake my blush when Ms. March mouthed, Lucky girl.
As it happened, our room was on the bottom floor, so we didn’t have far to go to examine our lodgings. It also meant that Ms. March stared a hole in our backs until we shut the door behind us.
“I can’t help but notice how close our room is to hers.” I twitched my nose. “Voyeur, much?”
“The lot is full.” Asa pinned me to the door with his hips. “It might be the last available room.”
“I can’t be the only one picturing her holding a glass to the wall to listen in on us.”
“You were,” Asa said on a sigh, “until you slotted that mental picture into my head.”
Hands on his shoulders, creeping up to his neck, I stilled my fingers. “It’s quiet.”
“The lot is full,” he repeated, cocking his head to listen. “Where are the other guests?”
“Feel up to taking a walk?”
“I’m definitely feeling up,” he lamented, bracing his forehead against mine. “Give me a minute.”
“Maybe I can help with that.”
Sliding my back down the door, I traded my grip on his shoulders for one on his hips. I hit my knees, and Asa groaned, his fingers tangling in my hair. I unfastened his belt, opened the button on his slacks, and tugged down his zipper. He was hot and hard under my hands as I freed him from his boxers and took him into my mouth.
“Rue.” Asa’s hands spasmed as I drew him deeper. “Gods.”
The taste of him was imprinted on my brain, and I savored it as a low growl slipped past his lips. His spine locked, his orgasm swift and brutal, and I grinned as his knees failed him. He hit the carpet before me, wobbly as an unset salted cajeta chocolate flan, his self-control unraveled in record time.
Yeah.
I was proud of myself.