Page 88 of De-Witched

“It was enjoyable.”

Her grin flashed. “Orgasms generally are.”

“And you had your share.”

A pink flush spread across her cheeks. “Well, you wouldn’t let me take my turn to help you keep up.”

“I didn’t need it.” And he didn’t regret it, either.

She gave him a doubting look and tapped her fingers on the mug. “So, did we cross everything off your list?”

“For the most part.” It would be enough, it had to be. One night. They’d agreed.

She moved her hair behind her ear, looked down at herself. Rueful, she said, “You don’t mind me borrowing this, right? I can’t exactly leave in my dress.”

Now he felt like his cheeks were flushing. “I apologize for that.”

“Don’t. I liked it.” She flicked a look at him and away, an element of shyness in the way she couldn’t hold eye contact.

He bore down on a surge of emotion, ruthlessly squashing it. “Good. And no, I don’t mind.”

She nodded, drank some coffee. “You don’t regret...?”

“No.” That, he was decisive about. “And you?”

“Never.” When she looked at him in that way, he could see himself clearing the counter, taking her in his arms again.

The silence crackled, much like the embarrassing manifestation of magic he’d displayed last night. Premature sparkage. How mortifying.

When the chirp of the compact mirror on the counter sounded, both of them jolted.

He threw a look at it. “I forgot to call Melly last night.”

“Right.” She put the mug down on the bar. “I’ll get going.”

“Would you like me to—?”

“I’m fine. You don’t need to take care of me.” She gestured. “Talk to your sister. I’ll see you at the shelter.”

He made no moves toward the mirror. Instead, he watched as she gathered up her shoes and purse. “Leah. We’re...good, yes?”

She glanced his way, seemed to read something in his face. Heading over, she crooked a finger from the other side of the breakfast bar. Obliging, although wary, he bent down. She gave his cheek a kiss. He breathed her in as she leaned away. “We’re good. One night. Still friends.”

He searched her face, couldn’t see any hint she was lying. A part of him was relieved. He couldn’t stand the idea of her being annoyed with him. The other part was tangled in all kinds of emotions too slippery to get a handle on. So, he nodded, and watched the door close behind her with a conclusive click. The apartment seemed to dim.

Rubbing an ache in his chest, he picked up the compact, flipped it open. As he’d thought, his sister’s face filled the screen. “Melly.”

“Is everything okay? You didn’t call me.”

“Apologies. The gala ran late.”

“I figured. Did it go well? Was Leah pleased?”

He kept his face bland, hoped his perceptive sister, who had been asking about Leah every day, wouldn’t catch on. “I believe she was very pleased with the evening.”

Leah hadn’t been awkward or clinging or even sad, he thought hours later, sitting at the reception desk for his shift. Chuck lay at his feet, lulled into complacency with the biggest chew Gabriel had been able to hunt down at the local pet store. Along with a new tug toy and a tiny, stuffed Labrador that looked too much like Chuck to pass up. And then, because guilt had stirred about the other animals, he’d also ordered several toys and chews to be delivered to the shelter later this afternoon. It wasn’t everything, but small actions counted. He believed that. He knew Leah did, too.

Mercy. Enough, man.

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