Page 35 of The Donor’s Dilemma

He opened the door right as she reached for the handle, making her stumble over the threshold. The glare on her face made him smile. Not a scared little mouse just yet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he called to Stella, who saluted at her dismissal. They might not be getting up to anything scandalous, but he’d still rather not be disturbed.

By the time he closed the door, Verity had already poured them both water and taken her usual seat. The routine might soothe her but perhaps water wouldn’t cut it after the weekend they’d had.

“Fancy something a little stronger?” he asked, finding a decanter of whiskey from a bookshelf and a couple of glasses.

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to drink before donating?” Her brow arched as he took his seat opposite her, knees just wide enough to trap her without touching.

“But… I thought you liked breaking the rules?” he teased.

The corner of her mouth twitched beneath her frown and Theo lived for that whisper of a smirk.

“I don’t remember breaking any rules,” she said, taking the glass and sniffing the contents.

Phoenar save him, she should have been the politician with her technicalities and loopholes. Wicked creature.

“So,” he said, “any plans for Thursday?”

Her nose scrunched when the whiskey touched her lips, the sweetest blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Not unless you’re about to tell me otherwise,” she said.

“It would seem that an old friend caught wind of me visiting the club and invited us out for a drink.”

“Both of us?” she asked, taking another minute sip before setting the glass on his desk.

“I think it’s assumed that I’d take you. If we have to go to the club, might as well have an excuse.”

She mused for a moment, chewing her lip before nodding. “What should I wear? Not sure I dressed revealing enough, considering what everyone else was wearing.”

Theo bristled. “No. You were perfect.”

The steady thrum of her heart picked up at the compliment, but it was true. She had looked beautiful. Hem not too short, neckline not too low. The dress had hugged her curves making it hard to keep his hands off her. Enough eyes had watched her as it was, that den of vipers didn’t need any more of an excuse to ogle what was his.

Because in there, she was his. His human. His to ogle, touch, and enjoy. His to protect, and the pressure of that almost outweighed the treacherous kernel of excitement he felt at the idea of taking her back.

He didn’t want to go to the club, but if he had to, then going with Verity would make it more than bearable.

“Well, I suppose a new dress wouldn’t hurt,” she said, offering her hand.

He took it, massaging the warm skin. Working the pressure points helped with blood flow, but not nearly enough to justify how long he took. Not that she needed to know that.

“Take my card. Get whatever you want.” Thumbs gliding out her palm, he pressed hard enough to feel her heart sing to him. Waiting for his bite.

“That’s not necessary,” she said, turning to the window. “I can pay my way.”

“I know, but I am the one inviting you…”

“Not your friend?”

She treated him to one of her little side-eyed smirks.

“I am inviting you,” he repeated. “And it would probably help the image too.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Fine, but I’m treating myself.”

“I’d expect no less.”