Page 7 of Conan
Still don’t like it, but I get it.
“I’m a tough nut to crack, Luna,” I remind her. “I can handle it.”
“I’m going to dig into the heart of the matter, Demi,” she warns.
“I still say I can handle it, Luna,” I swear.
“Write it with me,” she offers, begs, asks, or whatever this is.
“Have you lost your ever-loving mind, Luna?”
“No. I haven’t. Seriously, Demi, you lived through this and I could use your perspective.”
“You have. You’ve lost it… completely, Luna.”
“Think about it?” she asks, shooting me her puppy dog eyes.
“I’ll think about it,” I mumble.
“Think about what?” the bane of my existence asks, coming out of the woodwork like the roach he is. I swear if the zombie apocalypse hit and the world was annihilated by nuclear weapons to eradicate the undead, he would survive just like those icky bugs will.
“Nothing,” I snap.
“Writing a book with me,” Luna answers at the same time.
“Is nothing sacred anymore?” I inquire, pouting as I give her the stink eye.
Luna rolls her eyes and answers, “When it needs to be, Demi, but that isn’t one of those cases.”
“Whatever,” I whisper. “What-the-fuck-ever.”
CHAPTER
THREE
CONAN
Fuckbut I love her sassiness and what-the-fuck-ever’s.
They make me hard as granite.
I slyly reach down and readjust myself beneath the zipper of my jeans. When she raises her eyebrow at me, I realize I wasn’t as inconspicuous as I thought I was with the measured movement. Her cheeks don’t pinken in embarrassment like most women tend to do when it pertains to me, which humors me tenfold, and has my smile toward her turning more cunning.
I lift my eyebrows at her in challenge and she harrumphs, basically waving me off. Her blase attitude doesn’t offend me, instead, it amps up my competitive nature. It’s not as if we don’t burn hot between the sheets, because no doubt we do and we still do the deed on nearly a daily basis, but it’s mechanical with her and that’s what needs to change.
I don’t want to be her hookup, I want to be her man.
Watching Luna and Kodiak together deepens that desire. Plus, I’ve always longed for a family of my own and the heart wants what it wants and that organ that keeps the blood pumping through my veins has set its sights on her.
The prickliest woman I’ve ever encountered.
But her prickles tickle instead of causing me pain. I don’t mind being stabbed by her hard exterior, she is who she is and she’s survived obstacles than would have many cowering in a corner.
But not my demoness, she’s a fighter, a survivor—a warrior.
“What are you doing here?” Demi asks, breaking me out of my musings.
“What? I can’t come sit on a deck I helped build and enjoy the evening?” I ask, taunting her. One of my favorite pass the time activities. “You wound me, Demoness.” I mock grab my chest as if my heart is failing me and fall back a couple of steps.
