There's Something About Werewolves: Seven Brides for Seven Shifters, Book 1 by Thalia Eames Page B

for sure: First, he needed to get Nox trained to Ian’s satisfaction and remove his son from werewolf politics for good. Second, Lennox had become a temptation he didn’t have the strength to resist. Truth be known, he didn’t want to deny their attraction any longer. If he didn’t separate himself and his son from Lennox and Gran, they’d become a family. He’d be happy with that outcome but he needed Lennox to be an auntie and not a second mom or a wife.
    The role he wanted her to play conflicted with the fact he kept imagining her naked and straddling him—with his hardness buried so deep inside her they became one person.
    Oh, hells yeah, that would be nice. He fixed his gaze on Lennox’s swaying backside. The Elle in his fantasy lifted off his body, turned, and switched to reverse cowgirl position. Her ample ass spread across his stomach in a feast of silken flesh. Fantasy Elle rolled her hips. His dream self gripped those hips and came hard, arching off the imagined bed. Real-life Garrett made a noise somewhere between a groan and a howl.
    Lennox and Nox whipped around. “What happened, Dad?” Nox asked. “You sick?”
    Garrett scratched his ear and judiciously examined the lake. “Nah. I’m good, son. Just releasing some tension.”
    Nox looked at him like he’d never been more embarrassing and dragged Lennox farther ahead. Turncoat.
    Garrett now had the indisputable facts laid out. Time for the breakdown: The thought of being forced to present his son’s wolfen education to Ian for inspection pissed him off. Nevertheless he’d agreed to it. He really hadn’t had a choice. Second, he couldn’t touch Lennox again. Not when he wanted the four of them to be the unconventional family he dreamed of. If Dad and Aunt Lennox made with the monkey sex, it would complicate the situation to shit. Because of his principles, he and Lennox could never be more than best friends and fuck buddies. He hated putting it so crass but there wasn’t room in his heart for anything else.
    Finally, Anderson G. Westlake knew exactly what he wanted. As always, the choice boiled down to recognizing the sacrifice and making it. In this case he’d have to keep his desires far away from Lennox in order to keep her in Nox’s life.
    Lennox split off when they reached the backyard and mumbled something about a hot shower as she entered the house through the side door to the East Wing. Garrett mentioned Nox should shower too. The boy mumbled something incomprehensible and disappeared into the four-car garage on the opposite side of the property. That kid didn’t bathe unless forced, typically after he’d reached a stink to rival a garbage heap baking in the summer sun. Garrett grinned; teenaged boys were a nasty bunch.
    When he got inside he took his own advice. He considered a cold shower but opted for hot water and steam, along with his two steady girlfriends of the last decade—Thumbelina and Palmetta—combined with a heaping dollop of liquid body soap. Once he’d gotten his raging erection down to half-mast, he dressed and went off to find Lennox. Damn, he’d become a serious glutton for punishment. Hadn’t he just jerked off to put her out of his mind?
    Thinking about baseball didn’t work to calm his lust. Hell, all the imagery of bats and balls just made him want to hit a homerun deep into Lennox’s ballpark. He slapped his own forehead, exhaling slowly.
    Perhaps the various paintings lining the west-wing hallway would take his mind off Lennox. Art tended to transport him, and Cash had shipped in a collection of Mark Rothko pieces from the house in Big Sur. Focusing on the blocks of color as they faded in and out of one another helped to relax him as he stepped into his spacious living room and stopped short. Despite the calming effect of the paintings on him, there seemed to be no escape from raging hormones in the Westlake household today.
    Cash stood with the front door open. On the other side of the threshold