Onyx

“Not that I’d complain if you did.” His gaze dropped. “Not at all.”



I rolled my eyes, but my tummy was coiling tight. Why had I offered for him to stay? His assumption wasn’t too far off. Daemon didn’t strike me as the type to dig PG-13 slumber parties. I remembered the last and only time we’d shared a bed. Flushing, I stood. I didn’t want him to leave, but I didn’t…I didn’t know what I wanted.



“I’m going to get changed,” I said.



“Need help?”



“Wow. You’re so chivalrous, Daemon.”



His smile widened, flashing deep dimples. “Well, the experience would be mutually beneficial. I promise.”



No doubt it would be.



“Stay,” I ordered, then hurried upstairs.



I quickly changed into a pair of sleep shorts and a pink thermal. Not the sexiest sleepwear, but as I washed my face and brushed my teeth, I decided it was the best choice. Anything else would give Daemon ideas. Hell, a paper sack would encourage him.



I left my bathroom and stopped. Daemon had not stayed. My smile slipped from my face.



He was standing by the window, his back to me. “I got bored.”



“I wasn’t even gone five minutes.”



“I have a short attention span.” He glanced back at me, eyes glittering. “Nice shorts.”



I grinned. There were stars on my shorts. “What are you doing up here?”



“You said I could stay.” He faced me, his gaze drifting to the bed. The room suddenly seemed too small, the bed even smaller. “I didn’t think you meant staying on the couch.”



Now I wasn’t even sure what I’d meant. I sighed. What was I doing?



Crossing the room, he stopped in front of me. “I’m not going to bite.”



“That’s good.”



“Unless you want me to,” he added with a devilish grin.



“Nice,” I muttered, side-stepping him. Space was definitely needed. Not that it did much good. Heart pounding, I watched him kick off his shoes and then whip off his shirt. He moved to the button on his jeans. My eyes widened. “What—what are you doing?”



“Getting ready for bed.”



“But you’re getting naked!”



He arched his brow. “I do have boxers on. What? Do you expect me to sleep in my jeans?”



“You did last time.” I felt the need to fan myself.



Daemon laughed. “Actually, I had pajama bottoms on.”



And he’d had a shirt on, but who was keeping track? I could’ve told him to leave, but I turned away, pretending to be engrossed with a book on my desk. Chills shot straight to my core when I heard the bed groan under his weight. Taking a shallow breath, I turned around. He was in bed, arms folded behind his head, an innocent look on his face. “This was a bad idea,” I whispered.



“It was probably the smartest idea you’ve ever had.”



I rubbed my palms on my hips. “It’s going to take a lot more than Thanksgiving dinner and a Christmas tree to get laid.”



“Damn. There goes my whole plan.”



Flustered, infuriated, and thrilled, I stared at him. So many emotions couldn’t be possible. My head was spinning as I stalked over to my side of the bed—oh my God, when had we developed sides?—and quickly slid under the covers. I did not want to know if he’d left the jeans on or not. “Can you turn off the light?” Darkness descended without him moving. Several moments passed. “That’s a handy ability.”



“It is.”



My eyes focused on the pale light peeking through the curtains. “Maybe one day I can be just as lazy as you and turn off lights without moving.”



“That’s something to aspire to.”



I relaxed a fraction of an inch and smiled. “God, you’re so modest.”



“Modesty is for saints and losers. I’m neither.”



“Wow, Daemon, just wow.”



He rolled onto his side, his breath stirring the hair along my neck. My heart leaped into my throat. “I can’t believe you haven’t kicked me out yet.”



“Same here,” I murmured.



Daemon weaseled his way closer, and, oh yeah, he’d gotten rid of his jeans. His bare legs brushed mine, and my heart rate spiked. “I really didn’t mean to make you cry earlier.”



I flipped onto my back and stared up at him. He was raised on one elbow. Silky locks fell into his shining eyes. “I know. The whole thing you did, it was sort of amazing.”



“I just didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”



Slow and steady breaths raised my chest. Like when he’d hugged me downstairs and I’d kissed him, I wanted to stop thinking. Impossible when his eyes held the intensity of a thousand suns.



Daemon reached out, brushing a strand of hair off my cheek with the tips of his fingers. Electricity shimmered through me. There was no denying the attraction—the pull that didn’t want to let either of us go. My gaze was fixed on his lips like an addict. Memories of the way they’d felt seared me. All of this was crazy. Inviting him to stay, getting in bed with him, and thinking what I was about him. Crazy. Exciting.



I swallowed. “We should go to sleep.”



His hand palmed my cheek, and I wanted to touch him. I wanted to be closer. “We should,” he agreed.



Lifting my hand, I brushed my fingers over his lips. They were pillowy soft yet firm. Intoxicating. Daemon’s eyes flared, and my stomach hollowed. He shifted his head closer and his lips brushed the corner of mine. His hands slid from my face and down my neck, and when he dipped his head again, his lips brushed over the tip of my nose. And then he kissed me. A slow-burning, toe-curling kiss that left me aching for so, so much more. I felt like I was spinning into that kiss, falling into him.



He pulled back with a groan and settled beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Good night, Kitten.”



Heart pounding, I let out a long sigh. “That’s all?”



Daemon laughed. “That’s all…for now.”



Biting my lip, I willed my heart to slow down. It seemed to take forever. Then finally, I wiggled closer until he snaked an arm under my head. I turned onto my side, resting my cheek against his upper arm. Our breaths mingled as we lay there, staring at each other silently until his eyes drifted shut. For the second time that night, I admitted that maybe I’d been wrong about Daemon. Maybe I didn’t even know myself. And there was no wine to blame this time.



I drifted off to sleep wondering what he meant by “for now.”



Chapter 17



When Blake texted me and asked to meet him at the Smoke Hole Diner Friday evening, I didn’t know what to do. It seemed…wrong to have an early dinner with him when last night I’d slept in Daemon’s arms.



My cheeks flushed. We didn’t do anything other than that one kiss, but it was just as intimate, if not more. My feelings for him were all over the place and what he did for me yesterday, with the dinner and the Christmas tree, meant something I couldn’t ignore.



But I also couldn’t ignore Blake. He was my friend, and after last night, I needed to make sure he didn’t expect anything more than that—a friendship. Because somewhere over the course of a day, even though I hadn’t figured out things with Daemon, I did realize that he was right about one thing.



I was using Blake.



He was uncomplicated and harmless. Totally a nice guy and dateable, but my feelings were lukewarm for the surfer. Nothing like how I felt for Daemon. And it wasn’t right. If Blake did like me, I couldn’t string him along anymore.



So I texted him back and said okay, hoping this wouldn’t be the most awkward dinner of my life.



The weather had changed the moment the sun went behind the mountains. The comfortable autumn air was replaced by near-frigid winds, and the sky took on a constant gloomy, overcast presence.



I pulled into the closest parking space to the door of the diner. The wind had screamed the whole trip, and I dreaded getting out of my warm car. I couldn’t help but notice that the space of glass above the restaurant’s business hours held a picture of Simon on it. I grimaced, threw open the door, and hurried into the surprisingly crowded restaurant.



Blake was sitting near the fireplace. He stood and smiled when he saw me. “Hey, glad you made it.”



When he reached out as if he wanted to hug me, I pretended not to notice and sat. “I can’t believe how cold it is. How was your trip?”



Frowning slightly, he took his seat and methodically straightened his silverware around a pretend plate. “It wasn’t bad. Not very exciting.” When the cutlery was positioned just so, he glanced up. “How was your break?”



“Not very different than yours.” I paused, recognizing a few kids from school. They were clustered together, drinking sodas and eating a large oven pizza. Chad—the boy Lesa was dating—waved at me and I waved back. “But I’m not ready for it to be over.”



We paused while a plump waitress took our orders. I got a soda and a basket of fries and he ordered soup.



“Hopefully this doesn’t end up all over me,” he joked.



I cringed. Not likely, since Daemon wasn’t here…yet. “I really am sorry about all that.”



Blake tapped his straw off my hand before peeling the paper from around the plastic. “It’s not a big deal. Stuff happens.”



I nodded, studying the steamed-over windows. He cleared his throat, frowning again as his eyes narrowed on a middle-aged man near the bar who was looking around nervously. “I think that guy’s about to skip out on his bill.”



“Huh, really?”



Blake nodded. “And he thinks he’s getting away with it. He has so many times before.”



In stunned silence, I watched the man take one last drink and stand without getting his check.



“Someone is always watching,” Blake added with a slight smile.



A couple sitting behind the man, both in flannel shirts and well-worn jeans, were also watching the customer about to flee. The man leaned toward the woman, whispering something. Her heavy face twisted into a scowl, and she slammed her hand down on the table. “No-good bums, always thinking they can get a free meal!”



The outburst caught the attention of the manager who was taking an order by the door. He turned to face the startled man. “Hey! Did you pay for that?”



The man stopped and fumbled in his pockets. He muttered an apology and hastily threw several crumpled bills on the table.



My head snapped back to Blake. “Whoa, that was…uncanny.”



He shrugged.



I waited until the waitress returned with our order and left, my unease growing. “How did you know he was going to do that?”



Blake blew on his spoonful of vegetable soup. “A good guess.”



“Bullshit,” I whispered.



His gaze met mine. “It was just a lucky guess.”



Doubt bubbled up. Blake wasn’t an alien—at least I assumed he wasn’t, and none of the Luxen I knew could read minds or foresee anything, but that was just too weird. It could’ve been a lucky guess, but every instinct was telling me there was something more.

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