Pairing: John Pritkin/Cassandra Palmer
Summary: Every day with the Pythia tests Pritkin's patience. Some days are worse than others
A/N: spoilers for Curse the Dawn (book #4)
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Karen Chance; I'm not making any profit off this work. This is a piece of fiction, written merely for the sake of entertainment
Cassandra Palmer is the bane of his existance. John Pritkin is sure of this.
Showering is perhaps the most torturous adventure he has ever undertaken. His center of gravity is off balance, his eye line is inches shorter than he is used to, not to mention important bits of his anatomy are gone and new ones are in place where they should not be. It is disconcerting to say the least, and a lesser, more awake man would probably be in a full blown panic attack by now. But he shuts his eyes and pretends the hands and flesh underneath them are someone else's and the job gets done.
It's when he's out of the shower and toweling off that the secondary issue arises. Cassie's big blue eyes stare back at him from the mirror, framed by a freshly scrubbed face, red-cheeked by the steam. Her/his blonde hair has darkened from the water still dripping from its ends, and rivulets run down her/his chest, following natural curves to trail mostly between the valley between his/her breasts. It was an automatic motion to wrap the towel around his/her waist, but now he sees his mistake.
John's breath quickens. One slim-fingered hand rises, and a finger lightly traces the trail of water from collarbone to sternum. Out of the corner of his/her eye, he sees him/her lick his/her lips and his/her eyes dilate ever so slightly. With a blistering curse, Pritkin whirls around, whips the towel from around himself and staring straight ahead, wraps it properly at the level under his arms.
He breathes slow and and deep, and it takes only a moment before his emotions are back under their normal iron control.
"A damn menace," he mutters to himself for the thousandth time.