"It is small," he said, though not disdainfully. "You live here alone?"

I nodded. "It's a granny flat. The main house is over there." I pointed across the broad, manicured lawn. "My landlord is really private, so I hardly ever see him."

Loki glanced at the big house-–it wasn't quite a mansion, but it probably looked like a shack to him. Prince of Asgard. Snooty to the max.

"It's charming," he said politely. He was talking about my little bungalow. And damned if he didn't mean it.

I let him inside and opened the curtains in the living room. Watched him consider the flowered couch and thick, cushioned white rug. The antique mahogany coffee table and the watery abstract painting over the little brick fireplace.

"It smells like you," he said, and then smiled wickedly when I flushed with embarrassment. "You smell delightful, by the way. Like coconut and wildflowers."

He had never once, in the three months since I'd met him, given me a direct compliment. I didn't know what to do with it.

Loki was very pleased with himself for successfully putting me off balance. "I do miss that shampoo you used before you switched to coconut. What was the scent?"

He sort of stalked me across the room, radiating predatory enjoyment. Alarms bells started going off in my head.

"Loki, quit it," I said, and there was a breathless little quaver in my voice. He was too close, using his height to dominate me, leaning in until I could feel the heat coming off his body.

My god, he was smelling my hair.

He smelled like leather and bergamot.

"Was it roses?" he murmured, very close to my ear. "It suited you."

"You are being so inappropriate right now," I said, frozen to the spot.

He chuckled darkly, leaning a little closer, black hair tickling my cheek. "I do so adore how squeaky you get when you're nervous." He was enjoying the heck out this, and his enjoyment wasn't entirely at my expense; he wanted me to play along.

Suddenly fighting a smile, I slapped his chest. "Back off, you gigantic creep."

He tsked, pulling back to look into my face, lips quirking in a devilish little smile. "I will if you tell me what I'm thinking."

Again, I heard alarm bells. We'd played this game before and I had lost. Loki could conjure some incredibly embarrassing thoughts when he put his mind to it.

"No way," I said decisively.

He was so close I could see the little striations in the green of his eyes. "Isn't it your job to know what I'm thinking?"

Oh, you little... "I'm on a break."

"Oh?" he replied, with interest.

"Yes. Consider me off the clock."

His eyes glittered. "Are you really? How convenient."

Then he leaned down and kissed me.

I was so shocked I squeaked. I'm not proud of it, but I did. His lips were hot and very soft, and I'd never expected him to kiss me, and oh god, it was good.

He chucked into my mouth and his hand slid into my hair, cupped the back of my neck. His chest came up against me and my mouth fell open without my permission, and sweet Jesus he was kissing me so slowly, sweetly, like he was savoring it. Savoring me.

Like he really liked me.

I mean, he did like me. I knew that already. But right now he was liking me quite a lot more than I'd ever imagined. His arm was curling around my waist and he kissed me a little deeper because damned if I wasn't turning to melted butter in his arms.

He tasted like fresh coffee and sugar and his thoughts were curling into my mind like rich, dark chocolate–smooth, delicious, decadent. He was thinking about how I tasted, how sweet I was, how good I felt in his arms. How long he'd been waiting to taste me.

I couldn't help it. I groaned a little bit, soft and breathless, and he really liked that–kissed me deeper, arms pulling tighter around me.

And then he started thinking much darker, sexier things, and I felt myself heating from head to toe, and finally, my conscience kicked in.

I don't know when, but at some point, I'd fisted my hands in the lapels of his leather coat, and I let go, pushed at his shoulders until he released my mouth.

"That was not okay," I blurted.

He smiled smugly. "It felt extraordinarily okay to me."

Still a little dazed, I shook my head. "Dumb. Super dumb."

He was still holding me against his chest with both arms. One of his hands slid possessively up my back. "I disagree."

"This is work. We are not supposed to be kissing."

He gave me a slow, triumphant smirk. "You said you were on a break. I believe your exact words were, 'Consider me off the clock'."

I had no response to that. The bastard had tricked me somehow. I mean he hadn't made me say the words, but I couldn't help feeling that he had planned all of this, and I had fallen right into his trap.

"Don't look so abused. You were enjoying it, weren't you?" He bent as though to kiss me again, and I froze because I wanted him to kiss me again, but I knew how dumb it was, and I liked this job, and I really really didn't want to lose it, which I absolutely would if even one person found out I'd been kissing the God of Mischief.

I put my hand over his mouth at the last possible second. His surprise was–-if I had to be completely honest–-more than a little bit satisfying. He clearly felt he had the upper hand with me now, but I sure as shit wasn't gonna let myself get all gushy and submissive, even for Loki. Especially for him.

"No more kissing," I said firmly.

His brows pulled down, green eyes sparking temper. "Why not?" he growled against my hand.

"I'll lose my job."

He let go of my waist and grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away from his mouth. "Who's going to tell?"

I hesitated.

"By the God's, are you going to run back and confess all on your own?" he rolled his eyes.

"Of course not, but I'm a terrible liar."

"You're an excellent liar," he returned impatiently.

Damn. He'd noticed. "Fine. But I hate lying. I don't want to do it."

"Then don't," he said, clearly exasperated. "Do you think anyone is going to ask if you've been kissing me?"

That stopped me dead. He was right. No one would expect it. Literally, no one. Everybody else treated Loki with a combination of fear, contempt, and suspicion, if not outright hatred. Except for Thor. Thor just treated him with suspicion.

And to all outward appearances, Loki felt nothing but contempt toward me. I appeared to simply put up with him. I hadn't told anyone about his backward behavior. Mostly because I kind of liked being the only one in on it. Even Thor hadn't completely figured Loki out. Which was pretty sad, when you thought about it.

I looked up into Loki's face. "Don't think for a second that I'm not going to do my job exactly as I should, kissing or no kissing."

His expression turned wry. "You mean reporting my stabby thoughts?"

"Yes. And I'll give them a completely honest read at your six-month review, no matter what kind of relationship we might or might not have in the meantime."

His gaze heated. "What kind of relationship did you have in mind?"

"Honestly? None. I never expected anything like this."

Loki dragged me closer, arms around my waist again. "Idiot woman. I've been flirting for weeks. Didn't you notice?" His head dipped down and he nuzzled my neck just below the ear.

Tingling all over, breathless again, I mumbled, "You flirt like a cat flirts with a mouse."

He did that deep, dark chuckle again, kissing my neck very lightly. "I was sure you knew when you stopped wearing dresses. I thought you were teasing me." He nibbled my earlobe and made me shudder.

"I thought you were just messing with me."

"Mmm. I do enjoy making you blush."

His thoughts were getting sexy again. He wanted me to touch him. Wondered if I would let him take me to bed.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, buster."

His only response was to lick my neck and make me squeak again.

He made a low rumble of pleasure, like a growl, but smoother. "Make that sound again, little mouse." And then he nipped the same spot he'd licked, and to my dismay, I did squeak again, which made him laugh darkly and start backing me towards the couch.

"Wait, wait, wait !" I cried. But he already had me half-sprawled on the cushions, and he came down over me on all fours, prowling up my body like a big cat. He did pause, however, when I tucked my legs between us to block him from getting any closer. He arched a brow in challenge.

"I am not prepared to let you ravish me on the couch, Loki."

His gaze darkened. "By all means, if there is some other location you prefer-–"

"I really hope you don't think I'm that easy."

He didn't though. It was there in his thoughts. He wanted to kiss me some more. Touch me. See how far he could take it. But he didn't expect sex. Rather, he anticipated a long and pleasant chase.

Cat and mouse, indeed.

"I am not a prey creature," I said firmly. "We only have three hours until we have to return to the compound. I would like to eat some lunch."

His eyes narrowed. "I would like to kiss you again."

"Let me up first."

He thought about it. He really liked me in this position–wanted to steal a kiss and feel me under him. Honestly, I wanted to let him, but I didn't trust myself not to let it go farther. Maybe a lot farther. Just the thought of it–his big body over me, the smell of him, his heat and the way he kissed–a girl could only resist so much.

Finally, he sat back. I righted myself, watching him closely.

"I'm not going to pounce on you," he said mildly.

"Good. Thank you." I smoothed my shirt, which was now thoroughly wrinkled.

"What's for lunch?" he asked casually, one arm draped over the back of the couch.

"I'll make you a sandwich. And tea. I think I have some cookies as well." I knew he had a special appreciation for sweets.

"Sounds delightful. Can you be persuaded to kiss me first?"

My heart did a little backflip. "Possibly."

He leaned back against the couch and waited. Clearly, he wanted me to be the aggressor this time. Normally, I wouldn't mind–-in fact, a good percentage of me was willing to straddle him like a cowgirl and kiss him silly. But he looked so damned smug and sure of himself–-and he was shielding his thoughts, which made me suspicious.

"I changed my mind," I said, and marched into the kitchen, leaving him there without a backward glance.

I didn't even hear him get up, which was crazy considering all the layers of leather and metal he wore. I made it to the kitchen doorway and he was suddenly on me, spinning me around by the arm and crowding me back against the wall with his body.

It scared me-–in the best possible way.

He was pissed–-and somehow amused at the same time. My resistance both irritated him and pleased him.

I put both hands on his chest as he leaned down, green eyes narrowed.

"I don't like being manhandled like this, Loki,"

"No? Your heart is pounding though. I can see it right here," his fingers caressed my throat. "And you're flushed." He was so close, looking at my mouth.

"You scared me. Also, you're kinda pissing me off."

His mouth curved. "See, excellent liar."

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

He stepped closer, until our bodies were nearly touching. "You don't flush like that when you're angry," he purred, "Only when I tease you."

"A person can feel more than one thing at a time," I said, trying to sound reprimanding. I really was a bit irritated. He was being so condescending. "Look, I get that you've been bored at the compound and you want to have some fun, but I am a human being, not a plaything."

I don't think he meant for me to hear what he thought then, but I did. Loud and clear.

Human beings are playthings.

I shoved him so hard he fell back a step, which was really saying something, what with the Asgardian super strength and all.

"Ah," he said, reading my face. "Now you're angry."

"You don't mean that." I could hear the doubt in my own voice.

His eyes narrowed. "Mean what?"

"That human beings are playthings. We have all the same rights and feelings you do."

He laughed . "Oh, do you?"

I was so mad I couldn't form words for a moment.

"If I'm so damned inferior, why are you trying to seduce me?" I snapped.

His smug smile made me burn with humiliation. "Why not?"

Stupid, condescending, self-important asshole!

"We're done here," I said softly, teeth clenched. "I'm taking you back to the compound."

There was not even a hint of contrition on his face–or in his emotions. Just a flare of anger and the sting of rejection. He was shielding his thoughts again.

"What about my kiss?" he asked archly.

He knew damn well I wasn't going to kiss him again. He was trying to antagonize me. Acting like he didn't give a damn. But he was disappointed, as hard as he tried to hide it.

Not that I gave a damn.