Page 101 of A Fae in Finance
I didn’t hesitate this time to slide into his arms. He caught me, hands on my ribs, and put me down gently. I gazed up into his eyes, unable to stop the thought that it would benice, having Sahir around to catch me. That he followed the rules of my childhood reading: the sense of honor and justice and duty. My hands slid from his shoulders to his arms. He also had the unreasonably muscled body of most fantasy books. His fingers slid down to my waist, tightened almost convulsively. He had the unfair beautiful fringe of dark lashes that for some reason only blesses men. They shadowed his cheekbones as he stared down at me, his lush lips slightly parted.
“Thank you,” I whispered, that thought whirling:He can catch you; he can always catch you.And the unwelcome follow-up—that I wanted to be able to catch him, too, and was currently about as useful as an easel in a hurricane.
I pulled away, and his hands fell from my hips to his sides. I turned abruptly and kissed Sparkles on her warm nose. She nickered, huffed in my face.
“Bye, Sparkles,” I said.
Sahir and I walked inside together.
I focused on the floor passing beneath our feet, the sound of my breathing in my ears.
“Thank you,” I said again. “For helping me go outside.”
We stopped in front of my door. He took a step toward me. I leaned against my door, stared up at him. “You are welcome,” he breathed.
I glanced at the dent in his upper lip. At the lush curve of his lower lip. I couldn’t stop. He had a thin line, a scar, on the dimple in his chin. His throat worked as my eyes followed it down to the crest of his clavicle, half-bared by his disarranged green tunic—
Nope.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Thank you,” I managed, like a broken robot. I could hear the click of his heel as he took a half step closer, feel the warmth of his body inches from mine.
“You said that,” he whispered, his breath hot on my lips. His cinnamon smell surrounded me.
I inhaled.
He pressed his forehead to mine.
“Good night, lady,” he said, and was gone.
Safely in my room, I sat up in bed, Doctor Kitten beside me. My resident will-o’-the-wisp had taken up his preferred spot on my nightstand, curled into the nest I’d made for him from an old T-shirt. He glowed a warm, soothing bedtime yellow.
I needed help. I thought about Thea and Jordan. I wouldn’t call Thea for advice; she was loving, lovely, and not very practical.
Jordan, however, was an engineer who wrote Dungeons and Dragons campaigns in his spare time. If anyone would have practical and well-reasoned advice off the bat, it was him.
“We have to call Jordan,” I said. Doctor Kitten mewled in agreement.
I scrolled through my contacts for Jordan’s name and clicked on it before I could think too hard. It was one a.m. He might not be awake.
But he answered on the second ring. “Mir?” He sounded groggy.
“Jordan?” I said.
“Are you okay?” He paused. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“I’m fine,” I said, staring at my empty hand. “Work is just hard.”
I hadn’t even checked my email when we got in. I had been offline for six hours. For all I knew, something was on fire.
“This job is terrible for you,” he said. I could hear his voice change as he shifted closer to the phone. “Is it worth it?”
“Yeah, I mean…” I trailed off. Heaved a deep breath. “Jordan, I have to tell you something and I need you not to panic.”
“Okay,” he said, slowly. His tone had lost its sleep-rough edge. “What is it?”
“Swear not to tell anyone, not even Thea,” I added. “I have to tell her myself. When I’m ready.”
“Are you pregnant?” he asked. He sounded baffled. “When did you even havetime—”
