Page 17 of Help Wanted: Wife

He kissed her like he meant it, like he craved it, like he neededher. And she needed him. The affirmation, the knowledge of his desire, the desire itself.

Warnings hammered in her head, but she shoved them away and clung to his strong arms, kissing him back, exploring his mouth with her tongue. She relished the scrape of his jaw against her skin, the gentle strength of his hands gripping her waist, thecaress of his lips and tongue. His exotic alien musk enveloped her. How could she not have noticed how good he smelled?

“Uh, excuse me. Could I get some bread?” a customer cut in.

He released her so fast, she almost fell. His gaze, conflicted now, met hers. She spun away and grabbed the cleaner and towel from the top of the case and darted into the stall. She couldn’t even begin to process what had happened.

“What kind?” she asked, going through the motions of conducting business while remembering the gentle but firm press of his soft lips. She could still taste him. Smell him.

“The seed bread.”

Operating on autopilot, she bagged it. Larth entered the booth and stood behind her. All her senses went on high alert. Her skin tingled. Her heart raced. Her stomach fluttered. She couldn’t concentrate on selling bread right now, and, as soon as the customer left, she’d have to face Larth. “Anything else?”

The customer peered into the case. “No…”

“The uh—um—” She blanked, couldn’t remember what they sold. “Sweet rolls! The sweet rolls areexcellent. Baked them this morning. My personal favorite.”

“Four of those, then.”

“Perfect!” She charged him and handed over his purchases. “Come back again. Remember, we’re moving to a new shop!”

He left, and she busied herself rearranging the already neat items on the counter.

“Prudence…”

She froze, her breath hitching in her chest.It was just a kiss.It doesn’t mean anything. He was excited and got carried away.

But, what’s my excuse?

“Can you look at me?” he asked in a low voice. She turned. Dark eyes, their expression unreadable, fixed on her face. “Should I apologize?”

“No apology needed. We, uh, got carried away over the good news. No harm done,” she said. “It was just a kiss.”

Or was it? The kiss had seemed to suggest a promise, a hint at a fresh beginning, a signal of what the future could be. Her toes had curled, and, in his arms, everything felt right for the first time in a long time.

I have to keep my head. Not fall for the illusion.Under no circumstances should she read anything intothe passionate, intimate nature of the kiss. In truth, she wasn’t sure what her feelings were, what she even wanted from him.

She risked a glance at his earnest face.Him. I want him.

“Well, if you’re okay, then I’m okay,” he said.

Chapter Nine

He wasn’t okay. Larth lay in bed. Prudence’s breathing came slow and regular, and she hadn’t moved since they retired a half hour ago.

He’d crossed the line he’d drawn for himself. He’d been so overjoyed at the progress, he needed to share the news with somebody who cared. She’d worked so hard to help him bring the dream to fruition, and it was finally happening. In his exuberance, he’d grabbed her. Reacted.

The kiss had been like a bell. He couldn’t unring it.

And then he couldn’t even bring himself to apologize to her because, stars help him, he ached to kiss her again. Holding her in his arms, his scattered, conflicting emotions had pooled together and settled. Kissing her had made him feel whole. Perhaps, if she hadn’t responded so passionately, he might have been able to put it out of his mind and chalk it up to a one-time impulse that would never happen again.

He rubbed his bare left arm. Since the kiss, his sigils hadn’t stopped tingling. Pins and needlesprickled from shoulder to wrist. He’d been sleeping in loose nighttime drawers and a pullover, but the fabric irritated the gliteri, and he couldn’t bear it touching his skin. The more he remembered the kiss, the more energized the sigils became. The silvery scales weren’t the only part of him that had reacted. He’d toted around a raging erection all day. He was still stone hard, and his balls ached.

He couldn’t have gotten a more competent business partner. She fulfilled every requirement he had advertised for. He should be happy with that. He had no right to change the terms of their marriage contract—unless she wanted to, also.

Over the past week, he’d found his sorrow easing, contentment growing, excitement for the future increasing. He could remember Sala without the sharp pangs, and, in truth, he thought of her less and far more of Prudence. Smart and savvy, she had customers eating out of her hand. Almost literally. She kept the sample plate stocked, and she was phenomenal at the upsell—something he always forgot about. He’d give the customer what he came for and send him on his way. But when Pru manned the counter, the customer almost always left with more than he’d asked for. Thanks to her, business boomed.

However, it wasn’t her business acumen causing the blood to sizzle in his veins. It washer—her pretty face, her sultry voice, that curvy ass. How her blonde hair caught the light. The way her still-startling cyan eyes crinkled and danced with amusement. He loved her laugh and the speckles across her nose and cheeks. He’d become dependent on the rhythmic, soothing sound of her breathing to lull him to sleep every night. His insomnia had become a thing of the past. Thanks to her, he awakened refreshed and eager to tackle the day.

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