Page 66 of My Orc Has Big Tusks
“I was considering an application,” I said.
“You are not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the page is upside down.”
I looked. He was right.
“Ah.”
“Yes. Ah.” He pushed his chair back from the table. “What were you truly considering?”
Professional honesty would’ve been safer. Something about Cooper’s release timeline or Abagail’s nutritional requirements.
“Your hands.”
He went very still. “My hands.”
“They’re—” I struggled for a word that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous. “Distracting.”
“Distracting how?”
“You know how.”
“I’d like to hear you explain it.”
The challenge in his voice made my pulse kick up. I stood, the chair scraping back, and walked around the table until I stood beside him.
“They’re gentle with creatures,” I said. “They’re also?—”
I lost the words when he reached out and caught my wrist, tugging me closer.
“Also what?”
“Strong.” My voice had dropped to barely above a whisper. “Careful. But not hesitant.”
“I think about touching you,” he said, “when I should be thinking about intake protocols. And dietary requirements of mirrormoose. And whether the fence on the east pasture needs reinforcement.” His fingers stroked along my jaw and tilted my face toward his. “I think about touching you constantly, and it’s making me inefficient.”
“That seems like a problem.”
“It is.” His thumb brushed across my lower lip. “A significant one.”
“Maybe—” I had to stop and breathe. “Maybe we should address it.”
“How?”
Instead of answering, I kissed him.
His response was immediate. He pulled me closer, and I went willingly, climbing into his lap before my brain caught up with my body. His hands slid to my waist, then lower, and I made a sound that would’ve mortified me if I’d had any capacity for embarrassment left.
“Laina—”
“Yes?”
“The table?—”
“What about it?”
