Page 45 of The Devil and His Goddess

“And that’s all I care about,” I practically chanted to myself beneath my breath.

Chapter 17

Perseus

THE DOORBELL RANG AGAIN, AND I jogged across the white marble floor to the double doors. I’d barely managed to pull my gray sweatpants on over my slightly damp skin before Harper was pulling into the circular driveway of my house. I was still running a towel over my dripping hair when I opened the door for her.

“Hey,” I greeted with a cheeky grin, opening the door wider for her to come in.

I didn’t miss the way her blue eyes trailed over my bare torso as she slowly crept in, nor could I miss the immediate smell of her sweet arousal teasing my Incubus senses.

“Hey,” she replied warily.

I closed the door and led her into the large open living room that faced a wall of floor to ceiling windows. Beyond the glass was the backyard with its inground swimming pool, and beyond the rest of the yard were trees and mountain views. A U-shaped suede couch took up the center of the living room, facing the fireplace that stood amid the wall of windows. The kitchen off to our right shared the main space.

Harper surveyed the grand room with its high ceilings and pristine appearance. When she finally looked at me, she declared, “You live in a Greek palace.”

A loud laugh rushed up my throat, and I barely concealed it behind my fist. “Not quite. This house is nowhere near as extravagant as that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Harper murmured, going farther into the room.

Like me, her hair was damp from the shower she must’ve taken before coming here. She’d changed out of her ballet clothes and now wore an oversized pink sweatshirt and black leggings. She could make anything look sexy, and my currently hardening dick couldn’t agree more.

“Want something to eat or drink before we get started?” I asked, tossing the towel over the back of the couch and trekking across the living room toward the kitchen.

“Sure,” she answered as she followed me. “Do you have cooking skills, too?”

Smirking, I rounded the marble island. “Perhaps.”

“Of course you do,” she grumbled under her breath. I might’ve missed it if not for my superior hearing.

“Why don’t you get settled on the couch while I cook? I’ve already queued up the choreography videos for you.”

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She looked over her shoulder at the waiting TV then back at me. She plopped down on the bar stool across the island and propped her chin on her fists. “I think I want to see this show first.”

I shrugged. “Fine by me.”

I searched my fridge and decided on some fish, olives, and zucchini. She’d had a long, strenuous day of ballet practice, so she needed the fuel for her body. Her gaze followed me around the kitchen as I gathered all the ingredients and utensils I needed. I’d never cooked for anyone other than myself before, and I never imagined that changing.

But as Harper smiled softly while watching me, I found I wanted to do thiseveryday. I’d cook a thousand meals if it made her look at me like that.

I was fucked.

This feeling wasn’t normal. Something was wrong with me.

Which was why I promptly flicked an olive at her forehead.

“Ouch!” she yelped with a surprised laugh. She rubbed at her forehead and found the near-murderous fruit where it had rolled across the counter. “What was that for?”

“Stop staring at me,” I grumbled as I flipped the fish, letting the sound of it sizzling in the pan clear the fog in my chest.

Harper laughed and promptly threw the olive back at me. It hit my bare pec before rolling away. “I thoughtIwas in charge. You’re the peasant, and I’m the goddess, remember? Don’t tell me what to do.”

Wicked heat funneled through my veins as I looked at her with a smirk and hooded eyes. “Are you going to punish me for the offense, Goddess?”

She bit the corner of her lip slightly as the air thickened with desire. Instead of giving into my teasing, she rolled her eyes and got up to go to the couch. Without a word, she settled onto the ivory cushions and hit play on the instruction video.

I finished cooking without any more weird swells of …somethinginside of me. After plating the dinner, I grabbed both dishes and joined her in the living room. She moved to the space on the floor between the couch and coffee table, and while I considered joining her, there was no way my large build could nestle between the two pieces of furniture. So I sat on the couch with my plate propped on my leg while she sat at the coffee table, her attention bouncing between her food and the choreography on the TV.

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