her magic were the only thing he was responding to - that there was something more to the attraction, something powerful.
The familiar scent of chamomile tea that always filled the cottage distracted her from this unsettling train of thought, and reminded her that she was cold and wet. It was a comforting smell and at complete odds with the high drama outside.
Footsteps told her Derek had entered. She turned to find him filling the doorway.
“Come in, come in,” she said impatiently, trying not to notice his bare chest, which suddenly seemed like the only thing to notice about him. She fought to keep her eyes on his face, not his wide chest, not his six-pack…
“Thanks,” he said in that deep voice. He was so tall that he nearly hit his head on the exposed beams as he stepped inside.
He gave her a crooked smile.
“Sorry about my feet, they’re pretty muddy. I don’t suppose I could impose on you for a hot shower?”
An image of this gigantic hunk with rivulets of water running down his already naked body, and steam rising from his bulging muscles, streaked across Hedda’s imagination before she could stop it.
“Sure, um, wait there,” she said, looking away.
She bolted out of the room and into the bathroom.
It was covered in clothing, potions, and lady products. It wasn’t like the Lane women ever had company.
She grabbed an armload of embarrassing stuff and shoved it into the linen closet.
Then she started the water for him. The little room was soon steaming away merrily.
“Come on in,” she called to him.
A moment later she heard him padding across the pine floor.
When she turned to greet him, she nearly fell into the shower herself.
He was standing in the doorway again, taking up the entire frame, just as he had at the front door.
Except this time he was close to her, so close she could lean in, without meaning to, and rest her head against the plane of his tanned chest.
The haze of steam rose up around them, giving the moment a feeling of magic.
Hedda just gaped at him for a few seconds then promptly turned red. She could feel the heat of the blush all the way to her hairline. Curse her fair complexion.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice husky. “Do you want to go in first?”
“Nope, I’m fine. Just let me know if you need anything,” she offered inanely, as she scurried out of the room.
Her last glimpse of him as she pulled the door shut was of his twinkling eyes, and, she swore, his dilated nostrils. Was he sniffing her?
Classic shifter.
Except that he wasn’t begging her to shower with him. Which either meant that he was strong, or that her magic was fading after so much use. Not a good sign.
Pushing the idea out of her head, she strode to her room and began to peel off her wet clothes.
She wished she had a way to contact her sisters. But to reach for them now would take magic, more than she had left at her disposal. If the demon stayed away, she might be able to rest and recover.
The sound of the bathroom door opening roused Hedda from her reverie.
She grabbed her sheet and pulled it around herself quickly.
Derek was padding toward her, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. A towel that she swore was a beach towel, but that looked about as big as a napkin on the enormous man, somehow making him look more naked than he had looked when he was naked.
His wet hair was slicked back, but already one section had escaped and was hanging in front of his blue eyes.
He studied her calmly.
Hedda felt food-like. As if she were the last bacon-wrapped fig hors d’oeuvre at a party, and he was about to pounce on the whole tray to devour her.
Her traitorous body went weak with lust. He was going to kiss her again, and she was going to let him this time.
He stopped moving, his beautiful jaw clenched in restraint, his hands in fists by his sides.
So, no kissing, then?
And damn it , she was not supposed to be thinking about kissing, or anything except regaining her magic
The familiar scent of chamomile tea that always filled the cottage distracted her from this unsettling train of thought, and reminded her that she was cold and wet. It was a comforting smell and at complete odds with the high drama outside.
Footsteps told her Derek had entered. She turned to find him filling the doorway.
“Come in, come in,” she said impatiently, trying not to notice his bare chest, which suddenly seemed like the only thing to notice about him. She fought to keep her eyes on his face, not his wide chest, not his six-pack…
“Thanks,” he said in that deep voice. He was so tall that he nearly hit his head on the exposed beams as he stepped inside.
He gave her a crooked smile.
“Sorry about my feet, they’re pretty muddy. I don’t suppose I could impose on you for a hot shower?”
An image of this gigantic hunk with rivulets of water running down his already naked body, and steam rising from his bulging muscles, streaked across Hedda’s imagination before she could stop it.
“Sure, um, wait there,” she said, looking away.
She bolted out of the room and into the bathroom.
It was covered in clothing, potions, and lady products. It wasn’t like the Lane women ever had company.
She grabbed an armload of embarrassing stuff and shoved it into the linen closet.
Then she started the water for him. The little room was soon steaming away merrily.
“Come on in,” she called to him.
A moment later she heard him padding across the pine floor.
When she turned to greet him, she nearly fell into the shower herself.
He was standing in the doorway again, taking up the entire frame, just as he had at the front door.
Except this time he was close to her, so close she could lean in, without meaning to, and rest her head against the plane of his tanned chest.
The haze of steam rose up around them, giving the moment a feeling of magic.
Hedda just gaped at him for a few seconds then promptly turned red. She could feel the heat of the blush all the way to her hairline. Curse her fair complexion.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice husky. “Do you want to go in first?”
“Nope, I’m fine. Just let me know if you need anything,” she offered inanely, as she scurried out of the room.
Her last glimpse of him as she pulled the door shut was of his twinkling eyes, and, she swore, his dilated nostrils. Was he sniffing her?
Classic shifter.
Except that he wasn’t begging her to shower with him. Which either meant that he was strong, or that her magic was fading after so much use. Not a good sign.
Pushing the idea out of her head, she strode to her room and began to peel off her wet clothes.
She wished she had a way to contact her sisters. But to reach for them now would take magic, more than she had left at her disposal. If the demon stayed away, she might be able to rest and recover.
The sound of the bathroom door opening roused Hedda from her reverie.
She grabbed her sheet and pulled it around herself quickly.
Derek was padding toward her, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. A towel that she swore was a beach towel, but that looked about as big as a napkin on the enormous man, somehow making him look more naked than he had looked when he was naked.
His wet hair was slicked back, but already one section had escaped and was hanging in front of his blue eyes.
He studied her calmly.
Hedda felt food-like. As if she were the last bacon-wrapped fig hors d’oeuvre at a party, and he was about to pounce on the whole tray to devour her.
Her traitorous body went weak with lust. He was going to kiss her again, and she was going to let him this time.
He stopped moving, his beautiful jaw clenched in restraint, his hands in fists by his sides.
So, no kissing, then?
And damn it , she was not supposed to be thinking about kissing, or anything except regaining her magic
Similar Books
