Page 41 of Hot Girls Date Demons

And somehow—against all odds—we found each other.

Eight

Desmond

I know there is much to discuss.

Entire worlds, in fact.

Nightfall.

Magic.

Demons.

Fated mates.

The fact that I transported my beloved from a train station to my bedchamber with all the subtlety of a charging war beast.

But right now?

Right now all I want to do is hold her.

My mate is warm and soft and gloriously real sprawled across my chest.

I cannot stop touching her.

A hand in her hair.

My fingers tracing circles along her back.

Simply reassuring myself that she exists.

Three hundred years I waited.

I deserve at least a few moments to stare lovingly at her while she sleeps.

Or pretends to sleep.

Because I know she's awake.

Humans breathe differently when they're asleep.

I learned that sometime around 1914.

Don't ask.

“You're smiling again,” she murmurs sleepily.

I grin.

“I know.”

“You've been smiling for ten minutes.”

“I know.”

“Should I be worried?”