that she had no idea what to do with, but had wanted nonetheless. He cooked out, she dragged him on the dolphin-watching cruise, and they did all of the tourist things the island had to offer. She’d been so nervous about being alone with him, but he treated her like she was one of the guys, or worse, his little sister’s friend.
Tally couldn’t make up her mind; she thought that was what she wanted, to go back to the way things had been. For him to forget everything that had happened between them because it seemed the universe was decidedly against it. That wasn’t what she wanted at all, but it was what she needed. Her body cried out in protest that what she needed was to get laid—hard and fast by the sex in leather that was Falcon Cherrywood in his full Cupid regalia.
Whenever she’d pictured Cupid in her younger years, it had always been as a petulant child with a Botticellian mouth and a little bow and arrow. A stereotype? Sure, but it was what she’d been taught. Not this giant of a man with shoulders like Atlas, guns strapped to his thighs, and a mouth that could despoil a cleric with a smile.
Tally was embarrassed to admit she was looking forward to his turn in Weekly Warlock . He’d be 3-D pervy goodness all for her ogling. Tally wondered briefly how mortal women got along without live-action centerfolds. That wasn’t something she ever wanted to know firsthand.
She’d reenact the scene from the living room, among other things. She’d dress him up like a Victorian lord, a SWAT commander, maybe even a gunslinger outlaw from the American West. He could show her how to sit a horse and she could practice on him. She licked her lips at the thought and had to cross her legs for fear of getting stuck to the chair like an industrial suction cup. Something like that ran right down her vein of luck. She’d end up having to explain to the object of her nefarious desires that she’d been fantasizing about him and had gotten so wet . . .
No. She’d just have to put him from her mind.
She popped another cookie in her mouth, and then spit it out into a napkin. Her jeans were starting to get tight on her ass and with no magick to move a button one way or another, she had to watch what she ate.
No magick definitely sucked.
Tally looked down and realized she might as well have eaten that last cookie, because it had actually been the last. There wasn’t anything left but the empty package staring up at her with reproach in its little crumb eyes.
Falcon was going to be back any minute and she was wallowing in cookie crumbs in her not so skinny jeans, and hadn’t brushed her hair. Damn the no magick twice on Sunday.
Tally crammed the cookie package into the full trash can and cringed. She’d never had a full trash can before. What did one do with it when it was full? The cleaning gnome took care of that. She prayed no magick didn’t also mean no cleaning gnome. She wasn’t sure if she could stand it. Previously, the house had just stayed clean; she wondered who did it if not the cleaning gnome?
She didn’t have time to wonder further. When Falcon came through the door, she could tell something had definitely changed. Perhaps it was because he was in partial Cupid regalia. He had guns strapped to his hips and thighs and he was wearing the red leather pants.
“Hard day at the office?” she asked in a saucy tone.
“You have no idea. The Cherubim are harder to corral than sock gnomes and have sharper teeth. My brothers both got blind dates with Valkyries and the gals won’t stop calling my WitchBerry asking when Hawk and Raven are going to call them. They’re Valkyries, for Merlin’s sake.”
“Women are pretty universal, Falcon. Even hardass warrior chicks with big swords. I’ve heard stories about them though. If they get tired of waiting for your brothers to call, they might decide a raid is in order.”
Falcon grinned. “As in a pillaging sort of raid, like in the days of yore?”
“Yeah.
Tally couldn’t make up her mind; she thought that was what she wanted, to go back to the way things had been. For him to forget everything that had happened between them because it seemed the universe was decidedly against it. That wasn’t what she wanted at all, but it was what she needed. Her body cried out in protest that what she needed was to get laid—hard and fast by the sex in leather that was Falcon Cherrywood in his full Cupid regalia.
Whenever she’d pictured Cupid in her younger years, it had always been as a petulant child with a Botticellian mouth and a little bow and arrow. A stereotype? Sure, but it was what she’d been taught. Not this giant of a man with shoulders like Atlas, guns strapped to his thighs, and a mouth that could despoil a cleric with a smile.
Tally was embarrassed to admit she was looking forward to his turn in Weekly Warlock . He’d be 3-D pervy goodness all for her ogling. Tally wondered briefly how mortal women got along without live-action centerfolds. That wasn’t something she ever wanted to know firsthand.
She’d reenact the scene from the living room, among other things. She’d dress him up like a Victorian lord, a SWAT commander, maybe even a gunslinger outlaw from the American West. He could show her how to sit a horse and she could practice on him. She licked her lips at the thought and had to cross her legs for fear of getting stuck to the chair like an industrial suction cup. Something like that ran right down her vein of luck. She’d end up having to explain to the object of her nefarious desires that she’d been fantasizing about him and had gotten so wet . . .
No. She’d just have to put him from her mind.
She popped another cookie in her mouth, and then spit it out into a napkin. Her jeans were starting to get tight on her ass and with no magick to move a button one way or another, she had to watch what she ate.
No magick definitely sucked.
Tally looked down and realized she might as well have eaten that last cookie, because it had actually been the last. There wasn’t anything left but the empty package staring up at her with reproach in its little crumb eyes.
Falcon was going to be back any minute and she was wallowing in cookie crumbs in her not so skinny jeans, and hadn’t brushed her hair. Damn the no magick twice on Sunday.
Tally crammed the cookie package into the full trash can and cringed. She’d never had a full trash can before. What did one do with it when it was full? The cleaning gnome took care of that. She prayed no magick didn’t also mean no cleaning gnome. She wasn’t sure if she could stand it. Previously, the house had just stayed clean; she wondered who did it if not the cleaning gnome?
She didn’t have time to wonder further. When Falcon came through the door, she could tell something had definitely changed. Perhaps it was because he was in partial Cupid regalia. He had guns strapped to his hips and thighs and he was wearing the red leather pants.
“Hard day at the office?” she asked in a saucy tone.
“You have no idea. The Cherubim are harder to corral than sock gnomes and have sharper teeth. My brothers both got blind dates with Valkyries and the gals won’t stop calling my WitchBerry asking when Hawk and Raven are going to call them. They’re Valkyries, for Merlin’s sake.”
“Women are pretty universal, Falcon. Even hardass warrior chicks with big swords. I’ve heard stories about them though. If they get tired of waiting for your brothers to call, they might decide a raid is in order.”
Falcon grinned. “As in a pillaging sort of raid, like in the days of yore?”
“Yeah.
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