Free Magic Resistant by Veronica Del Rosa Page A

ignore her without
a single glance her way, she adjusted her pant leg, covering up her
calf. The temptation to smack him with an itching spell snuck into
her mind. She decided such a spell was childish and beneath her
(damn it!) and dissipated the magic twisting inside her.
    Head held high, ignoring the gorgeous
jackass, she strode to the kitchen.
    As she rummaged through the cupboards and
fridge, French toast won the food battle. Easy, filling and tasty
with a bit of cinnamon. Oh, of course he didn’t have cinnamon.
Fine, easy and filling then.
    A huff of irritation escaped as she glared at
her new nemesis. The mixing bowls on the upper shelf taunted her.
Why did he put them up so high? Plenty of empty shelves closer to
ground level.
    Nosing around, she found no step stool and
hopping up on the counter with a sore ankle didn’t appeal to her.
Getting up would be a breeze. Getting down worried her. Landing
with all her weight on her ankle would set back the progress she’d
made.
    “Uh, Jackson. I need some help in here,
please.” She gritted out, striving hard for pleasantness. She
failed.
    Forced to rely on someone else galled her.
Either she asked for help or hurt herself due to pride. Both
choices sucked.
    Several themes kept recurring in her life as
of late and she didn’t like them one bit.
    He sauntered into the tiny kitchenette. Even
in her irritation, she appreciated his fluid motion, the lethal
predator lurking under his civilized veneer. A man confident in his
abilities, willing to tangle with rogue demons when most mages
shied away from them. Only the strongest mages, mentally and in
magic, hunted demons, handpicked from hundreds of applicants.
Demons were tricky bastards, breaking any rules necessary to stay
on Earth.
    Tearing her eyes away from him, she pointed
to the bowls on one of the upper shelves. A second too slow, she
didn’t move out of his way. His body caging her, he stretched to
his full length. Trapped against the counter, his firm chest
brushed against her shoulder, sending tiny bolts of lightning along
her spine.
    The faint smell of wood smoke curled around
her senses, tantalizing her.
    Ignoring him while sitting at the table had
been difficult, but she’d successfully buried her lustful thoughts.
Total focus on the puzzle at hand helped her forget, if for a few
hours, she found him attractive. A shame it’d also shown her his
keen intelligence. Why did she have to find smart men so damn
sexy?
    She tensed and gripped the counter, her
knuckles turning white. Touching something she shouldn’t, no matter
how tempting, was a definite no-no. The sneaky glimpse she’d had
earlier this morning and during their workout burned every inch of
luscious stretched muscle into her mind. She’d almost given away
her naughty spying with that damn moan.
    His stomach muscles clenched, molded against
her back, as he grabbed the bowls. Suppressing the shiver of
desire, she blankly stared at the bowls now sitting on the counter
in front of her.
    “Pick one and I’ll put the rest back.” His
voice husky and deep murmured next to her ear, his breath tickling
her skin. Fumbling, she latched on the second one from the top,
hoping it was the appropriate size. Metal rung loud in the still
air and she twitched.
    Steadying himself with a hand on her opposite
shoulder, he reached upwards, his full length pressed firmly
against her. Her nerve endings oversensitive, each minute movement
he made fanning the burning flame within her. All told, it took him
less than a few seconds to put the bowls away.
    Her body swore an eternity passed. A
delicious, blisteringly hot, incredible eternity.
    Something so innocent and it caused a
firestorm in her blood. She flushed at the thoughts swirling in her
head. How in the nine hells was she going to survive time alone
with him? And what in the nine hells was wrong with her? She didn’t
react this way towards a man, especially one she just met.
    “Ah, thanks. I’m making French