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“What was it you called me? Hell’s overlord who wields his lucky pen like it’s… what was that last part?”
Enough! Elise’s tolerance disappeared in a sulfurous cloud of smoke. “Hell’s overlord who wields his lucky pen like it’s his staff of masculinity,” she ground out, then lowered her head and furiously pounded on the laptop’s keyboard.
Luc laughed and the hairs at the nape of her neck prickled. “Staff of masculinity. How could I have forgotten that? You could have just said—”
Her cheeks burned red hot. “I made that up before I knew you liked to beat your lucky pen against the desk.”
He turned in his seat and smiled the smile that never failed to raise her body temperature a hundred degrees. “And it was that particular phrase which made your habit of sucking on pen caps all the more bearable.”
She glared at him and his smile widened. “Don’t make me get up and come near your desk, Lucien Masters.”
“Getting up and coming near my desk are the least of my worries,” he replied in a husky, Southern rumble.”
― Lucien
Enough! Elise’s tolerance disappeared in a sulfurous cloud of smoke. “Hell’s overlord who wields his lucky pen like it’s his staff of masculinity,” she ground out, then lowered her head and furiously pounded on the laptop’s keyboard.
Luc laughed and the hairs at the nape of her neck prickled. “Staff of masculinity. How could I have forgotten that? You could have just said—”
Her cheeks burned red hot. “I made that up before I knew you liked to beat your lucky pen against the desk.”
He turned in his seat and smiled the smile that never failed to raise her body temperature a hundred degrees. “And it was that particular phrase which made your habit of sucking on pen caps all the more bearable.”
She glared at him and his smile widened. “Don’t make me get up and come near your desk, Lucien Masters.”
“Getting up and coming near my desk are the least of my worries,” he replied in a husky, Southern rumble.”
― Lucien
“Why do I have to earn it by being good? Don’t you feel like bragging?”
“It’s better when you beg,” he said, his voice low. “It’s always better when you beg.”
― Wild Man Creek
“It’s better when you beg,” he said, his voice low. “It’s always better when you beg.”
― Wild Man Creek
“Did you want to change into something more comfortable?” Adrian asks with a raise in his eyebrows, breaking me out of my train of thought, but not away from naughty thoughts.
I smack his knee. “I'm comfortable, but I know you're not.” He doesn't mind dressing up, but on most days I see him in casual clothes like screen-printed tees and hoodies.
“You're right,” he says, tapping my knee lightly, standing up. As he walks toward the hallway, he slips his shirt off the rest of the way. I can't look away from the sight, even if it is only from the back. Damn. What is happening to me? Have I gone mad?
Before I can tear my eyes away from him, he turns around. Judging by the look in his eyes, I've been caught. I have so been caught. Damn again. I didn't want him to see me practically drooling. It's too late for that now.
He smirks. “You know, I could spend the rest of the night just like this.” He places a hand to the hard muscles of his chest.
I clear my throat, trying really hard not to imagine my hand in place of his, and say, “If I'm wearing clothes, you're wearing clothes.”
“So if I'm not wearing clothes...” I grab a coaster from the coffee table and fling it at him. He catches it in his hand. “Just remember, all you have to do is say otherwise.”
― Here All Along
I smack his knee. “I'm comfortable, but I know you're not.” He doesn't mind dressing up, but on most days I see him in casual clothes like screen-printed tees and hoodies.
“You're right,” he says, tapping my knee lightly, standing up. As he walks toward the hallway, he slips his shirt off the rest of the way. I can't look away from the sight, even if it is only from the back. Damn. What is happening to me? Have I gone mad?
Before I can tear my eyes away from him, he turns around. Judging by the look in his eyes, I've been caught. I have so been caught. Damn again. I didn't want him to see me practically drooling. It's too late for that now.
He smirks. “You know, I could spend the rest of the night just like this.” He places a hand to the hard muscles of his chest.
I clear my throat, trying really hard not to imagine my hand in place of his, and say, “If I'm wearing clothes, you're wearing clothes.”
“So if I'm not wearing clothes...” I grab a coaster from the coffee table and fling it at him. He catches it in his hand. “Just remember, all you have to do is say otherwise.”
― Here All Along
“Don’t be afraid to do it harder,” she grunted.
“That’s what she said,” Alec said earning a laugh from Keela and myself.
“Have you ever thought of givin’ up sexual innuendos?” I asked him with my lip curled upward. “Because you should, you can be so disgustin’ at times.”
“I’ve tried,” Alec sighed. “But it’s hard, so hard.”
― Ryder
“That’s what she said,” Alec said earning a laugh from Keela and myself.
“Have you ever thought of givin’ up sexual innuendos?” I asked him with my lip curled upward. “Because you should, you can be so disgustin’ at times.”
“I’ve tried,” Alec sighed. “But it’s hard, so hard.”
― Ryder
“I’m trying to think…are you the florist?” Malcolm’s voice was slightly off, as if it were coming from someplace other than his own throat. ...
She took a sip from her own drink. “Nope. I like flowers as much as the next woman, but I can’t tell a dahlia from a daisy.”
“Or a lupine from a lobelia?” Hugh Parteger said.
“Or a carnation from a chrysanthemum.”
“You’re obviously not into floral sects,” he said.
She almost spit out a mouthful of kir royale laughing. ... “Mr. Parteger, I don’t discuss what I do in my garden bed with anyone.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “For most women, it’s just a matter of finding the right tool.”
She took another drink, enjoying herself immensely. ... “Yes, but it’s such a tedious process, finding one that fits and works really well. Better just stick to hand weeding. Fewer complications that way.”
“Ah, so you’re a master gardener.”
She actually giggled. How mortifying. She took a long swallow from her drink. “As Voltaire said, we must cultivate our garden.”
“I believe he also said, ‘Once, a philosopher, twice, a pervert.”
― A Fountain Filled with Blood
She took a sip from her own drink. “Nope. I like flowers as much as the next woman, but I can’t tell a dahlia from a daisy.”
“Or a lupine from a lobelia?” Hugh Parteger said.
“Or a carnation from a chrysanthemum.”
“You’re obviously not into floral sects,” he said.
She almost spit out a mouthful of kir royale laughing. ... “Mr. Parteger, I don’t discuss what I do in my garden bed with anyone.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “For most women, it’s just a matter of finding the right tool.”
She took another drink, enjoying herself immensely. ... “Yes, but it’s such a tedious process, finding one that fits and works really well. Better just stick to hand weeding. Fewer complications that way.”
“Ah, so you’re a master gardener.”
She actually giggled. How mortifying. She took a long swallow from her drink. “As Voltaire said, we must cultivate our garden.”
“I believe he also said, ‘Once, a philosopher, twice, a pervert.”
― A Fountain Filled with Blood
Katana’s 2025 Year in Books
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