Page 12 of Reptile Dysfunction (Harmony Glen #11)

Chapter Eleven

S loane

“I can manage the stairs.” Thad’s gruff insistence might be more convincing if he weren’t leaning heavily against the water tower’s entrance, his snakes all drooping in obvious discomfort. Sterling, his iridescent beauty, actually rolls his eyes at him before stretching toward me pleadingly.

“Of course you can.” Positioning myself under his arm, I ignore his token resistance. “But humor me. Think of it as research for my article. ‘Local Gorgon Defeated by Pilates: A Study in Reptile Dysfunction.’”

“Reptile dysfunction?” His attempt at being dismissive falls flat as he allows me to help support his weight as we tackle the spiral staircase inside the supporting column. “Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny. Maybe you should have installed a chairlift.”

“I hate you.” But his snakes aren’t on board with his sentiment, several nuzzling my hair appreciatively as I help steady him.

“Your hair disagrees.” We pause halfway up, his breathing heavy. “Need a break?”

“No.” His jaw clenches. His eyes are tight with pain, but when I glance back, he offers a crooked smile. “Just… taking a moment.”

“To rest?”

He hesitates, his amber gaze holding mine. “To appreciate the view.”

That shouldn’t make my pulse stutter. It does anyway.

By the time we reach his living space, we’re both breathing hard for different reasons. It takes more strength than Pilates ever prepared me for, but somehow, we avoid further injury to his back—or his pride.

“Stay put,” I order, heading to his kitchen. “I’m making soup.”

“You cook?” He sounds skeptical.

“Only if opening cans and setting timers counts as cooking.” A quick rummage through the cupboards turns up a surprisingly well-stocked pantry. “Ah-ha! Chicken noodle. Classic comfort food.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up and let someone take care of you for once.” My voice cracks with more emotion than I meant to show. “Sorry. It’s just… you don’t always have to be the strong one.”

Something shifts in his expression. “That’s not what I was trained for.”

“Maybe it’s time for new training.” Finding a pot, I set about my gourmet task of opening a can. “Even enforcers need soup sometimes.”

Somehow during our climb, my hair tie disappeared, leaving my hair down around my shoulders.

“Look what your pretty boy did.” I point to my hair, which I’m sure is a mess.

“Sterling!” Thad scolds, but his look of pure appreciation, dark heat simmering behind his eyes, says he’s not too upset with his errant snake.

“Your snakes are getting bold, Gorgon.” Moving to sit beside him while the soup heats, I lean close to let his snakes play with my hair. “Similar to someone who tried to show off on the Reformer.”

“Says the woman who wore knife-blade heels to a public pool.” His hand finds mine, surprisingly gentle for someone so strong. “Why are you really here, Sloane?”

“Because you’re hurt.”

“And?”

“And maybe I like taking care of the scary enforcer who’s not actually scary at all.” Leaning closer, I brush my lips against his jaw. “At least, not to me.”

Saying it out loud makes something flutter in my chest. Dangerous, maybe. But not wrong.

His snakes freeze, then sway in that slow, sinuous pattern I’m starting to recognize—not danger. Desire. Trouble, sure. But only the best kind.

“You should be scared,” his voice is rough as gravel.

“Why?” My fingers trace the tribal tattoos on his arm. “Because you might kiss me again?”

“Because I might not stop at kissing.” His voice drops lower, sending shivers through me. “Because there are things about me, about what I’ve done—”

“I know what you’ve done.” Threading my fingers through his, I meet his gaze steadily. “I’ve read the old reports. The ‘mysterious incidents’ that kept people away from monster territories. The troublemakers who suddenly became model citizens.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“What bothers me is watching you punish yourself for protecting people.” Reaching up, I stroke Sterling’s scales gently. “For being exactly what your community needed. What both communities needed.”

His free hand cups my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone. “And what about now? What does the community need now?”

“The truth.” Leaning into his touch, I let myself say what I’ve been thinking. “And maybe… maybe their enforcer needs someone who sees him. Really sees him.”

The kiss, when it comes, is softer than our first. His snakes create a protective curtain around us, some brushing my skin with gentle touches while others make pleased little sounds.

Sterling wraps loosely around my throat in what’s becoming his signature move, and I feel Thad smile against my lips.

“He’s marking his territory,” he murmurs.

“Just him?”

His answer is a growl as he pulls me closer and claims my mouth with a hunger that steals my breath. This kiss is different from our others. It’s heat and possession and everything he’s been holding back.

I grip his shoulders and dive deeper into the kiss as I straddle his lap. He groans against my lips, his fingers sliding up my spine, thumbs brushing the sides of my breasts. Sparks scatter beneath my skin, each touch feeding the fire building between us.

His snakes respond like a chorus—brushing against any place they can reach.

Their touches are electric, some trailing down my arms with feather-light caresses while others wind through my hair, creating a web of sensation that makes my head spin.

Sterling tightens possessively around my throat, his scales warming against my pulse point, and I swear I can feel Thad’s heartbeat through the serpent’s body.

The kiss deepens, becoming something primal and desperate.

Thad’s tongue sweeps against mine, claiming and exploring while I make soft sounds that seem to drive him wild.

His hands grip my hips, grinding me down against the rigid length of him, and the friction makes us both curse into each other’s mouths.

“Sloane,” he growls against my lips, voice rough with need. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Good way to go?” I manage to gasp out, rolling my hips again just to hear that broken sound he makes.

His response is to flip us with barely a wince as he presses me back against the couch cushions with a controlled power that makes every nerve ending sing.

More snakes join the party, some nuzzling at my neck while others trace patterns along my arms and shoulders.

The sensation is overwhelming—too much and not nearly enough all at once.

“I want to taste you everywhere. Every inch of skin,” he murmurs against my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below my ear. “I want to hear every sound you make when I touch you.”

My back arches involuntarily as his mouth trails lower, following the line of my collarbone. His hands slide under my shirt, callused fingers mapping the curve of my waist, and I can feel his restraint in the careful way he touches me, like he’s trying to contain a storm.

“Don’t hold back,” I whisper, surprising myself with my boldness. “I want all of you.”

Something in his control snaps. His mouth crashes back to mine with renewed hunger while his snakes become more adventurous.

One flicks its tongue against my ear, pulling a gasp from me that’s half surprise, half desire.

The dual sensations of his lips devouring mine and serpentine touches everywhere else make me dizzy with want.

When his hand slides up to cup my breast through my bra, I actually see stars. His thumb finds my nipple through the lace, circling with just enough pressure to make me arch into his touch. The snakes hiss their approval, and several more join the exploration.

“More,” I breathe against his mouth, not caring how desperate I sound.

His eyes flash amber as he pulls back just enough to look at me. “Tell me what you want,” he commands, and there’s something compelling in his voice that makes honesty spill from my lips.

“Your hands on me. Your mouth. Everything .” The words tumble out, pulled from me by desire and something deeper—trust, maybe, or the simple need to be known completely. “I want to feel what it’s like to be claimed by you.”

When his grip on my nipple tightens, I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound with another devouring kiss.

His other hand slides down to grip my thigh, pulling my leg up around his hip so I can feel every hard inch of him pressed against my core. Even through our clothes, the contact is electric, and I rock against him instinctively, chasing friction.

“Fuck, Sloane,” he groans, his control visibly fraying. “You feel so good. So perfect.”

His snakes seem to sense his mounting desire, their movements becoming more urgent, more possessive. Sterling nuzzles at the spot where my pulse pounds beneath my skin, while others wind around my wrists like living shackles, holding me captive to sensation.

Just as his hand works at the buttons of my shirt, just as I’m certain we’re about to cross a line we can’t uncross—

His back spasms, making him curse against my mouth.

“Fucking Reformer,” he snarls, the pain cutting through desire like a blade. Some of his snakes immediately shift into pain mode, curling into tight coils while others maintain contact with me, as if reluctant to break the spell entirely.

I can see the frustration warring with pain in his expression, the way his jaw clenches as he fights against his body’s limitations.

“Poor baby.” But I’m already standing to check the soup. “Food first, then I’m going to take very good care of you,” I promise, letting my fingers trail down his chest as I move away. The touch makes his entire body shudder, and I file that reaction away for later.

The promise in my voice makes his eyes flash amber again, and every single snake turns to track my movement toward the kitchen. “You’re playing with fire,” he warns.

“Maybe I want to get burned,” I toss back over my shoulder, enjoying the sudden intake of breath that follows.

A buzz on the intercom makes us both freeze.

“Sloane?” Bradley’s voice crackles through the speaker. “I went to the Y to pick you up. They said I’d find you here. We have dinner reservations at Marcello’s, remember?”

Shit. The conciliatory dinner date I’d agreed to, hoping to buy some goodwill from my dad for my ‘unauthorized’ blog posts.

Standing frozen by the stove, I close my eyes briefly, inhaling Thad’s scent that somehow combines chlorine and masculine spice that makes me want to forget all about obligation and responsibility.

The mood has already shattered like glass, and I can see Thad’s walls slamming back into place even as his snakes droop with disappointment.

“I have to go,” I say quietly, hating how the words taste like betrayal. “I’ll come back later,” I whisper, already missing his warmth. “After dinner. We can finish this.”

“Don’t.” His voice is gruff, carefully neutral. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’ve had enough of those.”

The words land like a slap—cutting and unfair. Before I can argue, Bradley’s knocking grows more insistent.

“Go,” Thad says quietly, his snakes coiling in on themselves. “Before your father’s golden boy gets the wrong idea.”

But as I gather my purse and jacket, I can’t help thinking maybe the wrong idea is exactly what Bradley needs. What this whole town needs.