“So at least you only kind of lied about your name.”
Ah, the anger had only been banked temporarily. “Yes,” she said. She tried to brush by him, not surprised when he wrapped a hand around her bicep and halted her in place. “You said I could borrow your shower.”
“Yes.” He leaned down, his breath heated at her ear. “Just so we’re clear. I don’t give two flying fucks who your kids are, who your friends are, or who your allies are.” His hold tightened just enough to be threatening without causing any pain. “You lie to me again, and the last few days will seem like a dream vacation compared to what I’ll do.”
Reality hit her in the face. He really didn’t care. Daire Dunne didn’t see her as a damaged demon, a widow, or even the mother of the most powerful demon on the planet. He didn’t see any of that. The enforcer saw her as all woman.
She turned and smiled at him, so much warmth rippling through her she nearly swayed.
He released her and stepped back, his brows furrowing together. “Don’t even try to charm me.”
She couldn’t help it. Her smile widened, and delight bubbled up.
He growled and gave her a not-so-gentle nudge toward the bedroom. She couldn’t quite make out the words he muttered as she moved away, but it sounded something like it’s always the fucking smile.
Daire finished yanking fresh jeans up after a superbly hot shower, his mind reeling. He’d prepared some scrambled eggs for Cee Cee, Felicity, for her to eat after she’d showered. His kitchen of dark granite countertops and stainless steel appliances was no longer in order, considering the kids had cooked an earlier breakfast. But he’d put it back together later. Right now, he had enough to deal with.
In his line of work, getting involved with a woman was complicated. Becoming friends with a female demon was intricate. But bedding the mother of the leader of the demon nation was fucking crazy. Yet Daire didn’t see her as a mother or even as a demon. She was sweet, she was hot, and the sounds she made when he thrust inside her would haunt his dreams until he died.
But he liked an orderly life, and he liked peaceful women. Felicity, on her own, was a barrel of crazy schemes and too much energy. Plus, she came with three grown sons and tight ties to the demon nation, which might create even more problems for him as an enforcer.
She was smart enough to drug him, and she was brave enough to face down powerful enemies half the world away from safety.
Just thinking about her made his pants too tight.
He crossed into the living room where she sat on the leather sofa, firelight caressing her skin. Her hair, long, shimmering, and blond, had dried down her back. No curls, no wave. Just delicate femininity. Dark yoga pants covered her toned legs, and a red T-shirt, a good one, her top. Freshly scrubbed with no makeup, the woman looked about twenty years old. Her feet were bare.
“I forgot to borrow socks from Simone,” he rumbled, leaning against the door frame.
Felicity jumped, her dark eyes flashing to him. “The fire is warm and so are my feet.”
She had cute feet. Small, pale, fragile. Yet she’d kicked that polar bear with enough force to break its nose.
“I usually know exactly what I’m doing and what I need to do next,” he said, his arms crossed over his bare chest.
She smiled. “That must be nice.”
“I don’t know what to do with you.”
A very pretty pink fluttered beneath her skin. Well, at least they were on the same wavelength. Yet she arched one fine brow. “I’m not yours to do anything with.”
From any other woman, the statement would’ve been a challenge. Yet with her regal tone of voice, her bearing, the woman actually believed every word.
He smiled. “Why are you damaged?”
Her head jerked.
Hadn’t been expecting that one, now had she?