Devon Monk - Hell Bent

“That sounds like a fair enough deal.” I scooted closer and leaned down like I was going to give it my all.

Instead I reached out, grabbed a handful of blanket, and pushed up onto my knees, pulling the blanket with me.

“Aha!”

She clung to the cover and squealed, pulling back. “We had a bargain!”

“No more bargains, woman,” I said as she laughed. “I claim these blankets in the name of Flynn!” I threw the first blanket over my shoulder, which just made her laugh harder.

“I shall de-fleece you. Then I shall have all the blankets, and all the warmth, and you will be at my mercy!”

“Fine.” She used her feet and hands to push all the blankets off her, then pulled up onto her knees. “You can have the blankets. I didn’t want them anyway.” She wadded them up and threw them at my face.

I didn’t do much to catch them as they fell in a mess to one side. Because suddenly she was in front of me, on her knees, naked, her hair falling in tousled waves around the curve of her shoulders, the graceful arc of her neck, unafraid as she gave me a challenging smirk. Her hand was to one side, clutching the pillow in preparation of braining me.

I blinked slowly and gave her a predatory grin. “Oh, I like this much better.” I reached out, brushed my fingers down the outside of her hip, then down the back of her leg to that particularly sensitive spot behind her knee I’d discovered.

She closed her eyes and goose bumps washed over her skin. She bit her lip and made a needful sound.

I lifted my finger and placed my palm on her hip.

She jerked back, her eyes wide.

I tipped my head. Wondered what had spooked her. If I had hurt her.

“Your hands are ice!” she accused.

“Really? You think? Maybe if someone hadn’t stolen every damn blanket.”

She gave me a glare that was wholly ruined by her small smile. “Hands off until you shower. Hot shower. No touching until those hands regain human temperatures.”

“I am so not showering alone,” I said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She slid out of bed, just inches away from me, careful not to brush against me as she passed by. She stood, stretched her arms up over her head, and arched her back.

I lost track of breathing for a moment or two.

Then that gorgeous woman sauntered off to the bathroom, swinging her hips. She paused, and gave me the come-hither over her shoulder.

Oh, baby. I hithered.

The inn is an old structure and the showers had been put in somewhere around the nineteen twenties. And while they were the height of modern convenience then, a Realtor might categorize them as “quaint” now.

Small for one person, downright cozy for two.

Not that I was complaining. And after my skin had gone up a few degrees so that I could once again use my hands along with my boyish charms, Dessa wasn’t complaining either.

We finally untangled from each other, toweled off, and got back into our clothes. I made her help me find my rings, which were in the bed, under the bed, and one, strangely, in my half-open sock drawer.

Something darted out from under the bed and burrowed under the towel I’d thrown on the floor.

“Uh, Dessa?” I said. “Your hat got loose.”

“What?”

I pointed at the towel just as a tiny furred triangular head with a black mask peeked out and made an equally tiny grunt/squeak.

“Your hat,” I repeated.

She took a few steps toward the towel. The ferret must have spotted her because it took off at a ridiculous Slinky-like hop-run, darting under the chair, then suddenly reappearing under the pillow on the bed.

“Jinkies! How did you get out of your cage?” She crawled across the bed and snatched the thing up midescape route, which apparently involved trying to wiggle its way into the nightstand drawer.

“Jinkies?”

“That’s his name.”

“You’re a fan of Scooby Doo ?”

“No. My brother was. He named him Jinkies. He was his.” She crawled back off the bed one-handed, the little furry monster in her other hand, then blew her hair out of her face and walked over to me. “Shame, this is Jinkies, the ferret.”

The ferret was pretty cute up close. It wriggled around in Dessa’s grip, clever black eyes glittering.

“You sure it’s not a weasel?”

“Ferret.”

“Whatever. You have to admit it’s a terrible hat.”

Dessa rolled her eyes. “Give me a minute. I’ll get him settled.”

She padded out of the room, holding the feasel up to her face so she could coo at it.

Yes, I thought it was adorable of her.

Once she was out of the room, I realized I was ravenous. I glanced at the bedside clock. It was an hour and several minutes off, but with some quick math, I figured it was about three in the morning.

As soon as Dessa returned without Jinkies, I caught her hand and walked toward the door.

“Hungry?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Good thing I know how to break into the kitchen.” We snuck hand in hand through the darkened hallway and down the stairs.

Eleanor followed along behind us, and I was grateful that she had given us as much privacy as the ties between she and me allowed.

The dining area was empty; the cleaning crew had gone home. And I knew the morning shift wouldn’t be in to start the breads and pastries for at least an hour.

I stepped up to the kitchen door, took hold of the handle, lifted, and gave the door a shove with my shoulder. The old lock gave, and the kitchen was ours.

Eleanor stayed on the other side of the door.

“What is your pleasure, lass?” I asked, walking over to the refrigerator. “Anything you want, sky’s the limit. Let’s see, we have beef stew, hand-tossed pizza, rosemary chicken. Ah, spanakopita. I know what I’m having.”

I pulled out the Greek dish, turned.

Dessa was leaning against the counter with a brownie in one hand and a half-eaten piece of cheesecake in the other.

“What?” she mumbled around the cheesecake. “You said anything, right?”

“Why am I not surprised you are an eat-dessert-first kind of gal?”

She swallowed. “No. This is my second course. I had you first.” And before I could say anything, she held up the dessert. “Want to taste my cheesecake?” She blinked big, innocent eyes.

Lord, how could I say no? “Why, yes. Yes, I do.” I walked over and leaned into her until she had to arch back just a bit. Then I kissed her, holding her lips with mine, stroking my tongue along hers until she exhaled contentedly.

“Good?” she asked as I pulled back a bit.

I licked my lips. “Never had better. But all it did was whet my appetite.”

“Oh,” she said. “So do you want to . . . ?” She pointed at the door with the brownie and wiggled her eyebrows.

“Good God, woman,” I said with a laugh. “Yes, I want that. But a man needs his strength. Let me get some food in my belly.” I shoved the entire spanakopita in the microwave, heated it more or less evenly, then set it on the counter and ate damn near half of it before I noticed Dessa had wandered off, because she was wandering back with two beers and a fork in her hands.

“I didn’t take the expensive stuff,” she said, setting a beer bottle in front of me. She’d already removed the cap.

“Last time you bought me a drink . . .”

“I only poison on a first date,” she said. “Share a bite or two of your spanakopita?”

“Help yourself.” I pushed the pan closer to her, and she took a bite.

“Mmm. Not as good as the cheesecake, but mmm.”

I tipped back the beer took a long draw. God, could a man be happier? I suddenly understood this be-with-one-person thing. The let’s-give-this-a-go thing. Coming home to her every day would be like visiting heaven. If heaven were a sweet-eyed, naughty-minded redhead.