Pushing Up Posies

by Eve Langlais

  “Oh.” She didn’t have the ability to say anything else. The statement proved startling and titillating.

  “I, of course, won’t act upon it, and yet, I did feel as if I should let you know. I’ll understand if you’d prefer to work in a different department or even leave me to work elsewhere, with a generous settlement, of course.”

  “You don’t want me as your secretary anymore?”

  “No. I do want you, that’s the problem. You’ve made it very clear we are colleagues only.”

  Every chance she got, which made it odd that she felt a need to say, “Your employee handbook has a loose policy about workplace relationships.”

  “We have a handbook?” Definite surprise in his tone.

  “Yes. Not a very big one. I don’t think HR gives it out often, given it took them two days to send it to me and it’s pasted into an email.”

  “What does it say?”

  He didn’t ask her why she’d even gone looking for policies on workplace relationships. A good thing because he was the reason why. “The handbook says nothing because you have no policy on friendships within the workplace.”

  “What does it say about lovers?” He leaned against the doorway, not coming inside, but definitely flirting.

  Her lips rounded. No mistaking what he suggested. “It says nothing at all.”

  “But it would be a bad idea, right?” he asked.

  “Most definitely.” She licked her lips. His gaze tracked it and smoldered.

  “I still want to kiss you,” he admitted.

  “Then kiss me.” She gave him permission. Because she wanted it, too. Not only was she curious if he was the final prediction, but she’d been fighting her attraction to him for much too long.

  His arm wrapped around her waist and drew her near. His lips almost tickled her skin as he said, “I’ve been fantasizing about you for much too long.”

  His lips slanted over her mouth and took command of it. He possessed her thoroughly, the hard press of his mouth making her pant. The hard curl of his arm aligning her firmly against him. Firm enough she didn’t doubt his interest.

  At the insistent probing of his tongue, she parted her lips, and he swept in, plundering her mouth. Making her shiver. Moan. Every sensual touch only served to ignite her further.

  His hands stroked up and down her body, stopping to cup her ass. With a growl, he gripped her tight and lifted her, walking her back into her apartment and propping her against the nearest wall.

  A first for her. Very hot.

  She twined her arms around his neck and held him close, not that she feared falling. His body pinned her in place, ground against her. And she shuddered.

  This was the passion she’d always wondered about. The crazy, enflaming need that didn’t care that they worked together or that her fateful birthday approached. She barely noticed as he inched up her skirt and palmed her thigh, the leather he wore warmer than expected on her skin. Strange but exciting, too.

  He hiked her leg and placed it around his hip. It exposed her more fully to him. Allowed him to grind against her.

  She caught her breath. He kept kissing her, devouring her mouth as if she were the tastiest thing. She kissed him back just as hard because he was.

  He anchored an arm around her waist and used his free hand to reach under her blouse and cup her breast. He stroked her nipple through the fabric of her bra. Making it peak. Tingle.

  He growled against her mouth before moving his way across her jaw then down the column of her neck. The roughness of the shadow on his flesh scraped along her skin.

  He nuzzled the fabric in his way, and then somehow that pesky shirt was gone. He’d managed to Houdini it off , leaving her in a bra, the nipples protruding.

  Again, he uttered that sexy noise before he plucked a bud with his lips, teasing it, sending jolts of intense pleasure right down to her pussy.

  She panted, wishing she had the nerve to ask for more. Every suck and tug on her nipple made the need between her legs only worse.

  She whimpered.

  He paused then continued his slow suck of her nipple, but the hand loosely placed on her waist slid between their bodies, cupped her sex, with his gloves still on.

  “Do you ever take those off?” she murmured.

  “No.” What he said, and yet he removed the glove and touched her again. Did he feel how wet she was through her panties?

  He pushed the fabric aside and slid a finger into her.

  She gasped.

  He slid in a second and stroked her, all the while tugging on that nipple. In and out, he thrust steadily with his fingers, and she panted, arched, clawed as his shoulders as the tension inside her tightened. Squeezed so very tight.

  When she came, she couldn’t help but scream, her body exploding with pleasure. Pulsing and hot. Then languorous as his strokes slowed.

  But he didn’t stop. He stroked her with his fingers as his lips found hers for a sweet kiss, working her until she writhed against him again, pushing her hips hard against his hand. Wanting more.

  Only he pulled away. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  “What?” She had a hard time forcing her heavy lids open. Then an even harder time grasping why he set her down. She braced herself against her wall, trying to understand why he was in the doorway. “Are you leaving?”

  “I’ve got a meeting to attend.”

  But what about his needs? Her gaze dropped below his waist.

  He growled. “Trust me, I’d rather stay here and finish what we started.”

  That made two of them.

  Despite what they both wanted, he left, closing the door softly behind him.

  He seriously freaking left. She leaned against the wall a moment longer, catching her breath, feeling the throb between her legs, trying to figure out what had happened. How had it gone from crazy passionate to him practically racing off?

  What did it mean?

  And what was that funny burning smell in her apartment?

  14

  Brody throbbed. Fiercely. He wanted nothing more than to slip into Posie’s welcoming heat, only an insistent tug drew him away. Someone yanked on his reaper contract, summoning him despite his wishes, and not because of a death. As he stepped from the mortal plane into the ether, his mission came to him as a thought.

  Come to Hell. Now.

  He couldn’t ignore the call, which meant leaving more aroused than he’d ever been in his life—and unlife. After almost a century of celibacy, what kind of cruelty was it to pull him away at this precise moment?

  Frustration—and the sorest of blue balls—might have made his stalking through the rip in space a little more ominous than usual. His cloak, fully extended, swirled and undulated, a living thing of smoke and shadows.

  The question that did circulate in his oxygen-deprived brain was who summoned him? It seemed unlikely the Lord of Hell would have cockblocked him so heinously. On the contrary, Lucifer would have probably wanted to watch. Who else did that leave?

  He landed in front of his guild.

  Not mine anymore.

  That became quite clear as his steps slowed to a stop outside of the building. He spent a bit of time gaping.

  Under his hood, he might have shed a tear or two as he beheld the once drab façade painted purple. Not a dark, menacing version but a light, airy violet.

  Dread in his step, he entered and uttered a sincere, “What the fuck?” as he saw the Sherpa rugs on the floor, the wicker table and chairs that replaced the previous trestle and benches, and the vines strung with scented and colorful blooms.

  Bambi’s interior design had transformed the Grim Guild into something delicate and pretty. A fancy indoor garden.

  It was almost enough to make him walk off the edge into the abyss. Only remembering how Posie pulsed around his fingers kept him moving forward. His platform had acquired a set of gold spiral steps leading to a—gulp—pink boudoir.

  Thankfully the Devil’s daughter didn’t force him into t
he pink monstrosity he used to call home. She held reign, perched on a stool, hand outstretched for someone to buff her nails while another person handled her toes.

  “You rang?” he uttered in a low timbre that vibrated.

  Blonde hair coiled atop her head, with fat ringlets escaping, his new boss pursed ruby-red lips. “I did page you, and look at you, running to do my bidding like a good reaper, leaving little Miss Posie high and dry. Very cruel, I might add.”

  No point in asking how she knew. This was Lucifer’s daughter. If it involved sex, she could sense it.

  “What do you want?” he bit off tersely.

  “What I want is for a certain god of war to step up and take care of my needs before I decide I’d rather see him as a crushed tin can,” she said on a low growl that turned into a smile. “Such a tease, my sweet War is. The longer the wait, the bigger the orgasm. Right?”

  Given how he felt at the moment, he couldn’t disagree, which was why he’d like to return to the mortal plane as soon as possible. “I’m kind of on a schedule,” he said, lying and doing his big boss proud.

  “Always working. If you weren’t so obsessed with doing your job well, it would almost be nauseating,” she said, sounding almost like her father. “Given your work is about pimping out demons to humans, and you’re about to diddle your secretary, it would seem you’re doing the Dark Lord proud. Which means I am kicking ass as your boss. Yay, me!” She fist-pumped, her eyes alight with a maniacal gleam.

  Perhaps someone should send this War fellow a note about doing everyone a favor and putting out a certain fire. He’d never heard any hints of Bambi being violent like other past members of the Baphomet family. However, he didn’t get the impression she abstained often.

  “Yes, you are doing quite well.” He had to keep his gaze off the décor to say the words with a straight face.

  “I am, which is why nothing can screw up. I’m tired of my father always ditching me for the newest flavor. Siblings are overrated.”

  “I thought you liked your younger sister, Muriel.” He’d seen a few hellocumentaries that showed them together.

  “Little lamb has grown up and doesn’t have much time for me anymore.” Her lips turned down. “People are always moving on.” Her lips suddenly tilted. “Moving on is great. You never get tired of that week’s flavor.”

  “Seems tiresome,” he observed. “Much easier to be alone.”

  “I don’t find it easy at all. And I’ll bet Posie doesn’t like it either.”

  A jab that had him changing the subject. “Is there anything else you needed me for?” He had other things he’d prefer to attend to.

  “I heard some angels visited you today.”

  He should have known she’d want to discuss it. “Only one angel technically. I missed the first because I was playing golf with your father.”

  “That first visitor was to your secretary, the girl who sees all. Which is kind of disturbing.” Bambi patted her wild blonde curls.

  “Does everyone know about her ability?” Because she seemed to be getting an awful lot of attention suddenly.

  Bambi smirked. “Funny how it happens. A person hides under our noses for the longest time, and suddenly, dear old Dad gets involved and their life turns into a clusterfuck. The annoying, not hole-stuffing, kind.”

  “What does that mean now that others are aware of her ability?”

  “She’ll probably get offers.”

  “That she won’t believe.” He paced, his cloak swirling, a living smoke that would wrap him like a shield if threatened. People often assumed reapers were invulnerable, comprised of incorporeal shadow. The truth? They remained flesh and blood. The cloak was their armor. It protected, healed, kept them alive. But as with any shield, batter it enough and it would be torn to tatters.

  “I don’t think she’ll be able to pretend for much longer. She’s been weaning off her pills.”

  “She still takes medication?”

  “A bit of a cocktail, but the good news is most have been replaced for placebos. Except for the water retention. That shit is amazing at dealing with bloat.” Bambi patted her belly. Flat, her waist cinched, her hips flaring. She went for a voluptuous style.

  He preferred Posie’s shape. Perfect

  “Is there a way we can hide her?” he asked.

  “I think she has been hidden these past thirty some years.”

  “By magic?”

  Bambi shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s gone now, and there are people asking about her.”

  “What people?” It hit him a second later. “You mean the angels. What did they say?”

  “I’ll get to that in a moment. First, we need to discuss some recent business developments. Namely, Heaven’s legal department sent a cease and desist in regard to the matchmaking operation. We, of course, refused to comply. Rather eloquently, too. My father sent back the messenger’s hand in a box, middle finger extended.”

  That would send quite the message.

  “How did they reply?

  “How do you think?” was her sarcastic drawl. “They were more pissed than a nest of hornets being shaken. They said we’ll crush you, blah, blah.” She waved a hand. “We said bring it mother fuckers. Which made more than a few cry.” She snickered. “Apparently that kind of affection is a sin. Which led to the Dark Lord offering to buy them some hookers that they might, and I quote, ‘Drain their holy balls so they would stop being so uptight.’”

  “Is he trying to start a war?”

  “We thought he was,” Bambi admitted, holding up her manicured nails for an admiring peek. “He had the legions marching up Main.” Main was a road that bisected all the rings. “Did a speech, fire, brimstone, and let’s kick some ass.”

  “He threatened them? But we don’t have the numbers to take on Heaven right now.” The whole purpose of Grim Dating was to increase the usable population in Hell.

  “The boneheads running Heaven are dumb as fuck. They believed our bluff, but they couldn’t back down, so Lucifer suggested a wager that avoids an all-out skirmish.”

  That didn’t bode well. “What kind of wager?”

  “The kind that leads me back to the lady you left panting and wet. Posie’s ability to see has drawn the attention of the archangels. They are very interested in her.”

  Fucking Raphael. Couldn’t handle the rejection. “They can’t have her,” Brody growled.

  Bambi arched a brow. “As if that was your choice.”

  “She’s not an object you can use for bargaining,” he argued.

  “I agree. Which is why the wager has to do with her choice.” Bambi stressed the pronoun.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that the winning side will be decided by whomever Posie chooses.”

  “I don’t understand. What are her choices?”

  “You or Raphael, of course. Who will be the one to win her heart?”

  His stopped. “You’re talking about love.”

  “Yes, love, that emotion you keep pretending doesn’t exist. And maybe for you it doesn’t. Which would suck because the terms of the wager are if Posie declares her love to someone on our side, Grim Dating remains open for business and Heaven won’t interfere.”

  “And if she doesn’t fall in love with me?”

  “Actually, it doesn’t have to be you, specifically. Just someone playing for our side. If we lose, then we agree to shut down all matchmaking operations on the mortal plane, plus no visitation privileges for anyone for the next ten years. And by no visitation, that includes reapers. Everyone would be Hellbound for that decade.”

  “But the dead…”

  “Will haunt the living for a while. Ten years isn’t horrible. Unless there’s some kind of catastrophic event.”

  “What of Lucifer’s need to rebuild the army?”

  “We’ll still make babies. It just won’t be as easy. But you are talking as if we’re going to lose. Ha. As if. We’re already halfway there, judging by the
smell of pussy on your fingers.”

  Sex didn’t equal emotion. It was physical need. “She doesn’t love me.”

  “Perhaps not yet. But it won’t take much.”

  “I don’t want her to love me.” A lie. And he didn’t even realize it until the words emerged from his mouth.

  “Then make sure she loves someone else playing for our team. I don’t care who it is, just so long as those angelic jerks don’t win.”

  In order for the other side to lose, Posie had to fall in love.

  With someone.

  And when he got home, hours later, because he got roped into paperwork, he began thinking about who that someone could be. His mind kept saying, Me.

  15

  Posie expected a knock at her door, but when it didn’t come by eleven, she went to bed. Got up too early with circles under her eyes and penned a letter of resignation. She’d had a good chunk of last night to think about it.

  She couldn’t continue to work for him. He’d never respect her.

  Heck, she wasn’t sure she could respect him. The passion that had been simmering finally overflowed. With it now unbound, could she control herself around him, or would she turn into that pathetic girl who threw herself at the boss?

  She had to quit. She had the letter explaining her decision tucked in her purse as she entered the hall seven minutes later than usual. Despite having peeked, she’d not seen him waiting.

  “Good morning.” His low timbre shivered over her skin. He wore his cloak over his body, but the hood remained down, his expression serious.

  “Hi.” She had no idea what to say and felt rather awkward. How did one handle a morning after when you weren’t quite sure of your feelings—or his?

  “My apologies for my abrupt departure last night. My business detained me longer than expected.”

  “No need to apologize.” The polite thing to say and yet she appreciated his words. “Do you often have after-hours meetings?”

  “Unfortunately. My boss expects me to be at her beck and call, day or night.”