Page 12 of Taming the Wicked Wolf

“Okay, I think I have everything ready. The stencil is down.” I sit back on my feet and look at my handiwork, running my handdown the side of the door frame. “All you need to do is chisel out the spot for the faceplate and the strike plate.”

“I’m not sure which surprises me more, that your landlord agreed to this,” he says, getting up from the couch, “or that you didn’t have a deadbolt to begin with. What did he say when you asked?”

“Well, his exact words were, “I don’t care. Do whatever you effing want, but if you mess up the door, it’s coming out of your security deposit.”

Joke’s on him. I lost all hope of getting my security deposit back the moment I brought Poppy home.

“Seems like a delightful fellow.” Silas holds out his hand and pulls me to my feet effortlessly, like I weigh nothing at all, “Hold on.”

“What is it?” I look up into beautiful golden eyes.

“You have a little something.” He smiles, lifting his hand and brushing his fingertips over my cheek, “There. I got it.”

“Thanks.”

It really is unfair how attractive Silas is and, oh. I catch the moment his eyes flit to my lips. Could he be thinking about kissing me? No, that’s impossible.

My brain all but short circuits as I feel the pressure of his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of my hand. The sensation shoots up my arm and down my spine, making my stomach do a little flip.

I pull away and hold out the chisel between us, “I guess you’re going to need this.”

“Right.” Silas says.

If I didn’t know better, I would think he was disappointed. How could he be? He’s a demon and I’m a witch, it could never work out. Not to mention he looks like he’s close to ten years younger than me. How in the hell do demons age? Am I going toget older and he would stay the same? Maybe there’s some sort of demon magic . . .

No. This is ridiculous. Nothing is happening between us. There has to be a rule in the demon or witch code that expressly forbids it. Surely, I would have been burned at the stake for this.

He drops to a crouch, pushing his long sleeves up to the elbow, showing off his muscular forearms as he gets to work, scraping off thin layers of wood from the frame.

“I’m getting something to drink.” I say, turning on my heel and walking into the kitchen before he can respond.

There is no way I am developing a crush. I’m going to be 36-years-old. I thought we were supposed to outgrow this bullshit at some point. Not that I’ve had anyrealinterest in dating since Chase and I got divorced. I haven’t even had sex in three years.

Why in the hell did I think of that?

From my spot leaning against the countertop, I have a full view of the front door, watching Silas as he works, his muscles straining. He reaches up, brushing his shoulder length hair back, tilting his head as he finishes up.

“Okay.” He calls out, closing the door and testing the lock a few times, then grabs the hardware from the coffee table, “Now we have this.”

“Do you think that’s overkill?” I walk into the living room, nodding to the box in his hand holding the brass chain lock.

To be fair, I’m the one that tossed it into the cart at the hardware store. I had this whole scenario playing in my head of me answering the door in a silk robe, which I do not own, and opening it just wide enough for the chain to pull taut like in one of those old tv shows set in New York.

Silas ignores me, peeling back the packaging and walking over to the frame, “Grab the pencil.”

“Okay,” I shrug, doing as he says.

He places one section of the chain against the door and nods for me to mark it.

“Isn’t this supposed to be around eye level?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.

That was a big mistake. Silas is right behind me, his chest almost flush to my back with his hands braced on either side of my head, caging me against the door.

“Your idea of eye level is quite different from mine,little witch.” His warm breath feathers against my cheek.

I straighten, turning back towards the door feeling the brush of his chest against my shoulders, “Lower it a little.”

He chuckles and moves the hardware, letting me mark the placement for it. We test to make sure it’s level before we secure it to the door. This time, I hold the lock and he uses the cordless drill that we borrowed from Mr. Jankowski, covering my hand with his as he screws it in place.

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