Page 60 of Paramour of Sin

Gleason gave her a look. “The kid is obsessed with the damn gym.”

“Really?” I drawled. “Doesn’t seem to be helping his physique much.”

Guinevere opened another cabinet to extract the sugar as she muttered, “Then you’ve clearly not seen him shirtless yet.”

My jaw clenched. “And you have?”

She merely smiled at me and started measuring out a small serving of sugar.

“Not happening, Gwen,” Gleason said, his tone underlined in a subtle command as he set his finished mug on the counter. That had to be a drinking record of some kind, somewhere.

“Yeah, yeah.” Guinevere waved him off. “Stay away from the trainee.”

Gleason grunted and left, his boots much louder on the stairs than Guinevere’s bare feet.

She stood with her back to me, her focus on the sugar-to-coffee ratio in her cup. As a succubus, she didn’t have to watch her figure, which meant this was all about taste for her.

Or perhaps it just served as a good distraction while she pretended I didn’t exist.

I almost made a joke about the whole Creek thing and him being her usual type, but I opted against it. Mostly because I wouldn’t like hearing her agree.

And then I’d end up saying something like,Yeah, well, take that thought out of your pretty head. You won’t be fucking him any time soon because you’re mine for the foreseeable future.

Which would probably go over really well considering everything else.

Groveling it is.

A task I was clearly excelling at… what with not making breakfast yet or really apologizing to her or even having her coffee ready when she walked downstairs. Gleason had done that.

Yeah, this is going really well.

Guinevere sipped her coffee as the sunlight played off her dark hair through the window, illuminating her features. She resembled a goddess in the morning beam, her skin kissed with a gold stroke of soft light, making my thoughts drift back to what she looked like under that robe.

Mmm.

I stepped up behind her, drawn to the bare skin at her nape. So beautiful. So pure. So Guinevere. I wrapped my arms around her waist, kissing that soft open place, my incubus nature driving my reactions.

She stiffened.

As I slid my hand into the crack of her robe, I whispered, “You know, angry sex can be fun.”

Guinevere slammed her mug to the counter, then broke free of my grasp with a little twirl on her toes. “Not everything in this world is about sex,” she snapped, then stormed from the kitchen, leaving her cup behind.

I stared after her, affronted. Of course everything in this world was about sex. We were literally sex demons.

With a sigh, I leaned back against the counter and scrubbed a hand over my face. For the first time, I felt like the young, naïve one here.

Because I had no idea how to fix this.

Chapter Seventeen

Zebulon

I sipped my tea while reviewing the notes in front of me.

Nothing useful.

All standard details with expected answers. No signs of elaborate or escalated power, just the usual growth. Unless one of them had developed the ability to thwart my natural lie-detection skills, then I had no leads to follow from the group I’d interviewed today.