Catnip & Curses (The Faerie Files Book 2)

by Emigh Cannaday

  “I honestly thought you might flake out,” he admitted as we were led to our table. “I wasn’t expecting this level of commitment from you.”

  “That was dumb,” I said as the waiter pulled out my chair for me. “I thought you knew me better than that after working together for almost eight months.”

  “I think I know you pretty well,” he said, and sat down across from me. “I’m tempted to ask the waiter to get you a lobster bib.”

  “But then he wouldn’t get to enjoy my amazing rack.”

  Running his hands through his hair, Logan snickered to himself. He finished the last of his Scotch, stealing a glance at my tits.

  “Right. I forgot that tonight’s all about the waiter.”

  I turned down the waiter’s wine suggestions for my four-course meal and got an adult version of a cherry limeade.

  “Here’s to me winning and you picking up the check,” I said, raising my glass.

  “Here’s to you not making it past the second course,” he grinned while touching his wine glass to my cocktail.

  “I saw you scrolling on your phone at the bar. Were you checking Tinder for a backup date?”

  “No,” he said. “What’s your favorite color?”

  “It depends,” I said as a basket of bread was delivered, along with two plates. I took my gold-plated silverware set out of my purse and started slathering the bread with herb-infused whipped butter. “It used to be neon turquoise but right now it’s hot pink. Actually, it’s—” I stopped myself just in time from shoving the bread into my mouth while talking. Logan raised an eyebrow at me and let out a low, evil laugh, tenting his fingers like a villain pondering world domination. That fucker wasn’t going to let anything slide.

  “Actually, I’ve been obsessed with hot pink for a while now. So when’s the last time you were on Tinder?”

  I sank my teeth into the warm bread and waited for Logan to answer.

  “Not really sure. I haven’t been on it in a couple of months,” he shrugged. “What do you think about this shade of pink?” He held up his phone, showing me a screen filled with a bright magenta.

  I hurried to swallow the bread and took a long gulp of my drink.

  “That’s a winner. Why are you asking about my favorite color? Are you getting me a present?” A little grin played on his lips. I leaned forward as he put away his phone. “What is this—some kind of date?”

  His expression was caught somewhere between confused and concerned. The familiar little furrow had appeared in his brow and his bottom lip puckered just the tiniest bit. He looked like he’d been caught red-handed at something forbidden, like cheating on a test . . . or trying to bone his co-worker.

  “I just wanted to have a nice dinner with someone, okay?”

  “You could’ve asked Kozlov to dinner,” I suggested. Logan wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  “Hell no.”

  “Why not?” I pressed. “Is it because she’s built like a Russian bodybuilder and has a mustache?”

  “No, it’s because she hasn’t said jack shit to us in the last two days. I’d rather eat alone than make small talk with someone who’s trying to shut down my entire department and get us all fired.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m sorry I even mentioned her. Let’s not talk about work.”

  “Fine by me. What do you want to talk about?”

  “I wanna know more about your ex fiancé.”

  Logan stopped buttering his bread and shot me a skeptical look.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Tell me about Bridget.”

  Logan went back to his bread, shaking his head at me.

  “Why do you care?”

  “I have a morbid sense of curiosity.”

  “Oh my god, Elena. You’re a terrible date!”

  “Thanks,” I gloated. “Now you know why I don’t date.” This got a laugh out of him. I ordered another drink and finished what was left of my first one. So far, so good. I kept wanting to put my elbows on the table, but I avoided it by sitting back in my chair. Logan tilted his head to one side.

  “When’s the last time you went out with a guy, anyway?” Not knowing how to answer him, I just blinked. “Or a girl,” he quickly added. “I don’t know what you’re into.”

  Man, oh man, there were so many ways I wanted to answer that question. None of them were appropriate to say out loud in the hoity-toity, two-Michelin star restaurant in the heart of Mariposa. Would it be wrong to say that right now I was only into six-foot-seven guys who played football in college and still had abs for days? Would it be shallow to admit that the only person I was currently into was the blue-eyed beefcake sitting across from me? The only person who’d seen the bony wing spurs on my back and not made fun of them? The same person who, a week after we’d met, pulled me out of a wrecked car seconds before it burst into flames?

  Would it be faerie snobbery to tell him that I only slept with humans when the urge to fuck became unbearable, but that he, Logan Hawthorne, was somehow different? Would it sound like a backhanded compliment to tell him that usually the smell of humans turned me off, but that he consistently turned me on?

  If I kept sucking down these rum-filled cherry limeades, I might just tell him all of those things.

  “Tell me about Bridget.”

  Logan rolled his eyes.

  “That’s ancient history. What’s left to tell?”

  “Why were you with her for so long? Why did you want to marry her?”

  “I’m not really sure anymore,” he said with a shake of his head. “I suppose it had something to do with wanting to follow in my father’s footsteps . . . you know, special agent by twenty-four, senior special agent by thirty. Married at thirty-two, first kid by thirty-four, second by thirty-eight, and middle management at the bureau by forty.”

  My eyes opened wide, but I kept my mouth shut. I couldn’t imagine having such a detailed road map for how to go through life.

  “Dad always told me to marry the prettiest girl I could find because that’s what he thought of my mom when they met,” Logan went on. “When I ran into Bridget in college, I thought she was classy and gorgeous. So did my dad. Mission accomplished.”

  He toyed with his wine glass, keeping it on the table as he gave it a gentle swirl. A wistful look had entered his dark blue eyes.

  “Mom wouldn’t have liked her at all. Turns out Bridget didn’t really have any hobbies . . . just a lot of money and an unlimited supply of emotional insecurity. Everything she did was focused on her looks, or how she looked on social media. Pretty much everything about her turned out to be fake.”

  “Really?” I asked, not bothering to hide my grin. “Like what?”

  “You mean besides her feelings about me?” he replied with an incredulous laugh. “Oh, the usual stuff; fake nails, fake hair extensions, fake tan, fake boobs, lip fillers, cheek fillers, camera filters . . . you name it. I thought it was normal so I didn’t think much of it. But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’d rather be with someone who’s comfortable in her own skin.”

  Our waiter brought out the first course, which was so good I wanted to lick out the teeny tiny bowl it was served in. Self-control was a real bitch, but I managed to make it through the entire meal without talking with my mouth full or using my dress as a napkin. I couldn’t even get food in my hair, since it was all piled on top of my head.

  But when dessert came, I couldn’t stop myself from dragging my finger through the melted ice cream drizzled in caramel that lay at the bottom of my bowl.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Logan practically howled the second he caught me with my finger in my mouth. The guy was literally in the middle of signing the credit card slip after paying for our meal. I let out a low, wicked laugh and did it again.

  “If I’m remembering right, you only wanted to see if I could get through a meal without being a slob,” I pointed out. “I had perfect manners during dinner. Dessert’s just an add-on.”

  �
��I wouldn’t say you had perfect manners,” Logan said, pretending to be annoyed as he tucked the receipt into his wallet.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean for my boob to almost fall out of my dress when I picked up my napkin from the floor,” I countered. “I don’t exactly have a ton of experience wearing this kind of thing.”

  His eyes drifted down to my tits, then returned to meet my gaze.

  “Yeah . . . I can tell.”

  I suddenly felt weak in the knees.

  We left our table and swung past the coat check to get my bag from Sephora, then drove the Tahoe back to our hotel. It was only nine o’clock. We didn’t have to be at the police station until six a.m.

  There was a moment after Logan switched off the ignition that we both turned to look at each other at the exact same time. Hesitation hung heavy in the space between us. Were we going to kiss? Oh, please let it happen! Just . . . let something happen! I wasn’t ready for our night to be over. I leaned closer and wet my lips.

  “Hotel bar?” Logan suggested.

  “Absolutely.”

  The place was hopping with nonstop chatter from a pretty big bachelorette party. One of the bridesmaids was drunk, and hell-bent on going home with the bartender. We bellied up to the bar beside them, finding chairs that faced the entrance, just in case any familiar faces turned up. I didn’t want this unofficial date with Hawthorne the Hottie to end prematurely.

  “You said you didn’t date,” Logan reminded me when the bartender dropped off our drinks. I could see why the drunk bridesmaid wanted to bring him home. He was cute, but nothing much compared to Logan. “How come you don’t have a boyfriend?”

  “Eh, it’s like I’ve told you before—I don’t like spending more one-on-one time with humans than necessary,” I explained after blowing a stray wisp of hair out of my face.

  “Why not?”

  “They gross me out.”

  “But how?”

  “They don’t smell all that great. And some smell like absolute shit.”

  A smug smile spread across Logan’s face.

  “Then how come you told me earlier that I smell like coffee cake and apple strudel?”

  I bit my lip and shrugged.

  “Because that’s what you smell like to me.”

  He lifted a brow, still grinning. God, he was fine. I wondered if he had any idea just how sexy he truly was. I took another gulp of liquid courage. We’d moved on to brown liquor, with Logan nursing an expensive Scotch and me sucking down a Jack and Coke. It was strong and delicious . . . just like my partner.

  “So I don’t gross you out?”

  “Nope. Not at all,” I said, feeling a wave of warmth rising up my belly and spreading across my skin. Some of it was the booze, but some of it was the latent hunger that had gnawed at me ever since the day I’d set eyes on this beautiful, arrogant jock. “You’re the complete opposite of gross.”

  “That’s good to know.” That boyish grin didn’t look so innocent anymore. “So you won’t mind if I get a little closer?”

  Another wave of heat crackled inside my body, pooling between my legs. If he only knew exactly how close I wanted him. Maybe it was time to tell him.

  “Hawthorne,” I began, looking him straight in the eye, “if you ever get too close, I’ll tell you.”

  “What about now?” he asked after scooting his chair over until it was butted up alongside my own. “Is this too close?”

  “Nope.” I grinned and took another gulp of my drink. My breath caught in my lungs as I felt his strong, warm thigh rest beside mine. His presence hung over me like a warm, cinnamon bun scented haze, imposing in size.

  “I had a good time tonight,” he said quietly, looking hesitant and boyish and seductive all at once. He stole another look at the deep V in my dress that separated my breasts. “Maybe we could do it again?”

  “Yeah . . . I’d go out with you again.” I slowly licked a drop of condensation from the side of my glass, and watched as his eyes narrowed and his jaw feathered. “But, you know . . . the night’s not over yet.”

  He drew in a breath, his eyes darkening as he got my message loud and clear.

  “Elena . . . are you saying what I think you’re s—”

  Suddenly the drunk bridesmaid knocked into him, spilling his Scotch over his hand and down his sleeve. She didn’t even notice.

  “I know, I know, I’m a little tipsy,” she giggled while swaying precariously from side to side. “I just came over to say that my friends and I all think you two should get a room! You’re obviously into each other! I know the look when I see it!”

  “Thanks for the tip,” I said as another bridesmaid pulled her away from us. Then I turned to Logan.

  “I’m game,” I said, dipping my chin as I made my best attempt at bedroom eyes. “Are you?”

  11

  Logan

  My cock flexed in my pants, preparing itself to swing into action. I took one look at that round, thick ass, that small waist, those amazing, perpetually shimmering tan tits I’d only seen once . . . by mistake. Nobody wore a dress like the one Elena had on unless she wanted guys like me to notice . . . and I’d noticed. She had essentially served those tits to me on a platter. Now they could be pressed against my face, in my mouth, bouncing back and forth as I fucked that sweet pussy.

  “Let me close the tab,” I said, and knocked back what was left of my drink.

  Two minutes later we were in the elevator, heading up to our floor. I wanted to kiss her so bad, but I forced myself to keep my hands off of her until I was unarmed. The last thing I wanted was accidentally firing my gun because I couldn’t keep things under control. And yeah . . . that last sentence had more than one meaning.

  “Your room or mine?” she asked, running her hand along the deep cut neckline of her dress.

  “I’ve got a nosy fucking cat in my room.”

  “I’ve got condoms in mine. Let’s go there.”

  Condoms? Fuck. She’d been planning this all along, hadn’t she? I mean, I wasn’t complaining. The truth was that it just made me harder. I fought to keep my excitement under control and maintain my composure.

  The elevator opened and we looked up and down the hall, making sure the coast was clear. Like a dog, I followed her to her door, doing my best to look nonchalant while she swiped her key card and ushered me into her room before anyone saw. And if anyone did see, well, we still had reports to write. I could always say my laptop died and I needed to use hers.

  Once we were inside her room, she turned the deadbolt and then leaned against the door, grinning like I was the one who was in trouble . . . not her.

  Oh . . . this was going to be fun.

  She’d left a light on by the bed so that when I sauntered up to her, my shadow covered her entire body. I lost the jacket and lifted an arm up against the door to lean over her, doing everything in my power to make her feel even smaller than she already was. Then I bent my head down and looked into her brilliant green eyes.

  “Where’s your gun?”

  “In my purse,” she said, and lowered her bag gently to the floor. “Where’s yours?”

  “Where it aways is,” I said. She gave a little smirk, then ran a hand along the outside of my pants.

  “Not there,” she teased. Then she reached over to my other leg. “Mmm . . . not there, either. What about over here?” God, I was hard as a fucking rock. I grabbed her hand and pressed it against my cock. She let out a shudder under her breath

  “Oooh . . . Logan! I think the safety’s off.”

  “Only one way to find out,” I said, taking my actual sidearm from the holster. I set it on the desk to the right and then pushed her up against the wall and kissed her. I tried to be gentle at first, but she was hungry for more. Deeper . . . harder . . . whatever she wanted, she wanted more.

  I caught Elena’s reflection in the mirror attached to the closet door. Her leg was now draped around mine, running up and down my leg before she pulled me closer. Every time her tongue flicked o
ut to tease my lips, I swore she tasted like cherries sprinkled with sugar. Her fingers were in my hair, grabbing little fistfuls before raking her nails down my neck and back.

  I scooped her up and lifted her off the ground, grabbing those thighs while my mouth made its way from her neck down to the deep narrow cut between her tits. I used my nose to push away the fabric of her dress, trying not to bite down too hard on the dark pink nipple.

  “It’s okay—you can bite harder,” she hissed at me. I took a bigger mouthful of that shimmering tan tit and bit down until she groaned like she was coming.

  “Shhh!” I growled while cupping my hand over her mouth. “I don’t want anyone to hear us!”

  At that moment, all I wanted was to get inside of her as fast as possible. She needed to know that she wasn’t really the one in charge.

  I was.

  Had I wanted this all along? Was that the reason I thought she was an ungrateful little punk-ass from the moment I first laid eyes on her? The thought disappeared as fast as it had arrived. All I cared about was what lay between those toned legs. I needed to make sure she was ready for me, so I kicked off my shoes and carried her over to the bed.

  Yanking her little thong to one side, I cupped my hand over her pussy, then slipped a finger inside. It was just like her mouth—soft and wet. I knew it’d be sweet but I didn’t think it’d be so tight. I slipped a second finger inside and then knelt down for a taste. She was sweet like all the honey and whipped cream she ate on a regular basis, and tart like the key lime pie I’d seen her eat at lunch. I ate her like she was a slice of that same pie. Elena panted and squirmed and bucked her hips against me and the thick, soft bedding. Then she spread her legs wide and rode my face until her body went into little convulsions. Her pussy tightened and released over and over around my fingers but I kept licking and sucking until she pushed me away.

  “Fuck, Logan! Hurry up and put on a condom!” she said, sitting up just enough to point at her purse on the floor. I snatched the bag and tossed it on the bed next to her while taking off my shirt and unbuckling my belt. When she presented me with the little foil square, my heart sank.