“Shifters are used to nudity,” I say evenly, as if that explains why I’m standing bare-assed in her bakery like a lunatic.
It’s true—but it’s not the whole truth.
There’s no good reason I’m still naked, other than the fact that my inner beast is purring like a damn engine at the sight of her, and I’m fighting the urge to grab, taste, and claim.
The scent of her fills the air—warm sugar, cinnamon, and that underlying note of her.
Sweet, heady, and addictive.
My Badger claws at the inside of my chest, pacing, snarling.
He wants her.
Wants to roll her beneath us, wants to scent-mark every inch of that soft, curvy body.
No. This is business. I’m here to fix this mess, not make it worse.
“Yeah, okay,” she says, crossing her arms, her voice a little breathless. “Um, this is a commercial kitchen, though.”
She clears her throat, averts her gaze—but not before I catch her eyes flicking down my torso to where my cock is jutting out, loud and proud.
My mouth twitches.
She’s trying not to look, but she’s looking.
And gods help me, that tiny spark of curiosity in her gaze makes something primal inside me bare its teeth.
Still, I respect her space.
I bend down, pull on my boxer briefs, then my slacks, taking my sweet damn time with the buttons.
Mostly because watching her pretend not to look is the best kind of torture I’ve had in years.
When I reach for my shirt, I catch her staring again—and smirk.
“Shifters also don’t gape at one another when we’re nude,” I tease.
Her cheeks flush.
“Yeah, well, I’m not a Shifter,” she fires back, chin tilted.
And hell if that doesn’t just make me like her more.
She can keep up.
She’s quick, sharp, and doesn’t take my bullshit.
And despite everything I’ve said, everything I came here to do, my Badger is practically humming, tail up, eyes gleaming.
He’s intrigued.
Hell, I’m intrigued.
“So,” I ask carefully, tugging on my cufflinks, “you’re saying you didn’t know about Shifters before this?”
She wipes her hands on her apron, moving around the kitchen like she owns the place—which, of course, she does.
“Yeah, I mean—no, not really. It’s complicated.”
