Page 53 of Fangs with Benefits

Elijah looks embarrassed, but he’s smirking too. ‘Obviously I don’t know what I’m doing,’ he says, sheepish.

‘I’m out of practice.’

‘Out of practice in no-strings-attached relationships with colleagues?’

‘Out of practice at having friends. Talking to anyone, really. I think I lost most of my social skills around the time of the Second World War.’

‘I think you do okay,’ I say. ‘Except for the lack of lexicon and pop culture knowledge. That needs a little work.’

‘Can I kiss you?’ he blurts.

I feel a flush rise on my neck immediately; my skin has never kept my secrets.

‘Now?’

‘You’re right, it was a bad idea, I’m sorry I—’

‘No, that’s not what I meant. I’m surprised,’ I tell him. ‘It’s… generally seen as a very bad idea to kiss at work.’

‘Of course, of course,’ he says, over-effusive. ‘Bad idea.’

‘And if anyone saw us…’ I give a dramatic exhale. ‘The gossip would be the least of our problems.’

While I speak, I slide closer by an inch, and then another, slowly eating up the space between us in the small office. He watches me as I do, my chest rising and falling faster.

‘Right. As you said, bad idea,’ he agrees, but his gaze skates to my mouth. I press my lips together to keep from grinning and exhale a shaky breath.

‘So you see why we really shouldn’t,’ I say, not a question, and step closer, close enough to slide one of my boots between his feet, close enough that my eyes are level with his plump, pink lips.

Gosh, he really is pretty, isn’t he?

‘Won’t ask again,’ he says, and when he speaks, I feel his breath on my face. I nod barely.

‘It’s for the best,’ I whisper, pushing on my toes just enough to bring my lips below his. He closes the remaining distance, his hands going immediately around my waist as he does.

It’s not a long kiss, or a feverish one; it’s languid, like he’s revelling in every movement of my mouth and his, my tongue swiping lightly against the seam of his lips until he lets me in, kissing me with a smile still turning his lips. One of his cold hands slips beneath my sweater, a startling and delicious sensation against my hot skin there. I decide that I want him to touch me everywhere, to place these smiling kisses down my throat, my chest, my—

Something drops in the office next to Elijah’s, and the sound startles us away from each other as if someone had walked in. They didn’t–his door remains shut, but my heart still races as if we were found out. I meet his eye and, after a tense moment, we both quietly giggle at the situation.

‘Close call,’ Elijah says.

‘Told you it was a bad idea,’ I breathe. I right my sweater and hope that my cheeks aren’t as crimson as they feel while I reach for his doorknob.

‘I really do need help with the printer on four,’ he says, and I laugh, rolling my eyes with fanfare.

‘Let’s go.’

Card left on Molly’s desk with a paper-wrapped copy of Sweet Summer Minotaur

Molly,

Happy belated birthday.

Didn’t know what you liked, but this one came even more highly recommended by my usual bookseller than The Multi-Millionaire Minotaur.:)

I can’t say enough how grateful I am for the help you’ve given me this month. You are singular in your skill and patience.

Elijah