Page 27 of The Rusalka and Mr. Right

“I am broke. I don’t have a steady job. I can’t have babies. I amtellingyou—”

“I amaskingyou—Can I see you tomorrow night? Just you, not your bank statements, or anything else.”

“Ohhh.” I bite my lip and put one hand to my forehead. “You don’t listen.”

“Everything you’ve said is an excuse. I don’t want an excuse. I figure if you really don’t want me around, you’d tell me no. If I didn’t listen to that—” Kev smirks and pounds one fist into his empty palm. “Wa-bam! I’d be flat on my back like Todd the Wonder Creep.”

I have to chuckle at that.

But he’s right. I’ve tried everything short of revealing my true form to get him to lose interest—everything but simply rejecting him.

That’s one thought I can’t bear. I want to taste the salty sweet of him one more time.

Want to be held in someone’s arms—no, in his arms, and fall asleep feeling safe, one more time.

“What time should I come over?” I ask.

“Well... You could just come home with me now, and we’ll talk about it in the morning?” Kev’s soft, velvety lips brush mine.

“Take me home.” I slide my arm under his. It’s a lie, a very sweet one. That I have a home, and that it’s with him, that it’s safe to stay there, that it’s allowable to let a human see me sleeping and vulnerable.

To trust.

To pretend it’s love.

“I’ll make breakfast this time,” I whisper, kissing him again.

Chapter Nine

Marina is a wild thing that drags her nails over my inner thighs as she sucks me dry, swallowing with a ravenous moan of satisfaction that I was sure only paid professionals on websites could pull off. She leaves me wheezing and wondering if I’ll be able to keep up with her. She looks like she just downed a case of protein shakes, and I’m ready to pass out.

“You have to stop doing that,” I wheeze.

“What?” Marina pulls herself up, climbing me like a prowling lynx as I collapse backward on the bed. She leans over me, naked, grinning, a gloating gleam in her eyes.

“Making me come before you. That’s a no-no.”

“Why?” Marina laughs, seeming genuinely puzzled. Before I can stop her, she brushes a kiss over my lips, and I try not to recoil. I’m a little squeamish about kissing a woman who just swallowed my cum—but Marina tastes like peanut butter and honey.

Like my favorite dessert that I never get these days. I pull her back, wondering if something’s wrong with my brain. Her soft lips are like fluffy whipped peanut butter mousse, with the cloying hint of honeycomb on her tongue.

Must be love that makes her taste like home.

That thought jars me, and I let her go.

We do not fall in love in the space of two dates, lust-for-brains.

“Most men come before their women,” Marina shrugs. “I know how to get myself off. And you’ll be ready again in no time if I have my way.”

“But some men don’t wait, or they don’t make sure you finish, and I think that makes them seem selfish. Then girls get mad. Then people cheat. I’m not about that.”

Marina is silent.

“You and Gregor—”

“Never!” she bites off the word—and cross my heart, I see sparks fly from her eyes. “He was my only one, and I was his!”

“I believe you, I believe you. Sorry.”

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