That’s a secret for another day.
“What are you looking for?” I ask her cautiously, keeping my voice even so as to not further upset her.
“Cameras,” she breathes, nostrils flaring. God, she smells so good when she’s angry. The arousal burgeoning between her thighs smells like the sweetest, most delicious dessert, but heranger.
Holy shit her anger.
Hot and beautiful, like crackling embers, a roaring campfire, toasted treats and whispers in the night. Her anger rolls off of her in waves, her fiery scent washing over me, leaving me throbbing and on the brink of a big mess.
I clear my throat as I battle my desire, my mind suddenly acutely aware of the fact that after all these years,my mate is finally here.
Jack Hopper will not die a lone were-bunny fated to being a single guy.
“There are no cameras. This isn’t a joke,” I tell her calmly. “You’re seeing me with your own eyes, Esther. You know this is real. You’re just scared.”
She stands straighter, and I find her resolve sexy, too. Then again, everything Esther does will arouse me. She’s my mate, after all. “I am not.”
I nod. “You are. And that’s okay.”
She folds her arms over her chest, defiant. “Okay, genius. What am I scared of?”
I volley my head, working through the list in my mind. “Well, you’re scared of me a little, because of my size and the fact that I can turn into a large bunny at any time. Though as you’re listening to me recount this, your fears are lessening by the moment because you know, deep down, I’m safe and harmless,” I start, studying her features to see that I am indeed, on base.
“And you’re scared of what it means if I’m right—which I am,” I interject before continuing. “You’re scared to see how people react to you knowing that you love a were-bunny. You’re nervous to know how I make love, because you want me, you just don’t knowhowto want me, and what to expect. And you like knowing what to expect.”
She doesn’t nod her head, and she doesn’t verbally agree. But her sharp body language softens, shoulders sloping, face growing tender.
“Let me prove to you that you’re my mate,” I ask of her, not wanting to wake to find she’s fled in the middle of the night. “And in return, I’ll help you prepare for the Eggstravaganza so that your sister can rest.”
I outstretch my hand. “Do we have a deal? You give me two weeks to prove to you that we’re mates, and at the end of the two weeks if you don’t think any of this is real, I’ll never mention it again, and in the meantime, I’ll help you with anything you need. I’m at your disposal.”
She reaches out, and our palms kiss. The heat and friction of her touch sends off fireworks in my belly, and the tops of my feet grow itchy as white hair slowly appears. I yank my hand back and shake my head. “Let me walk you back. I could use the fresh air. But… we have a deal?”
She watches whiskers sprout from my face, her eyes wide. “We have a deal.”
5
Ten. That’s the amount of times I’ve jerked off today. Look, men have high sex drives and I’m sure you’ve heard the expression “fucked like bunnies,” right? Try being a man-bunny. I’m double-doused in desire. I’m always on fire, hiding it well behind smiles and a tool belt.
But it’sbadtoday. Esther is giving me a shot to prove to her what I already know.
And today is our first day working together.
“You’re coming up here with me,” she says, reaching for my hand but thinking better of it. She drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, glancing around the empty event center. “Will you start shifting if I touch you? Every time?”
I nod my head. My skin burns just being in close proximity. “It’s best that you do not touch me.”
Her cheeks grow flush. “I still can’t believe thatImake you shift.”
My groin tightens when she saysshift. “You make me shift so hard, baby.”
“Alright,” she hedges, putting a palm up. “I don’t wanna work you up, so let’s stay focused.” She climbs the stairs to the stage, and takes a seat at the two-person table, covered in a butter-yellow tablecloth. Turning on the microphone, Esther gives it a tap, wincing at the feedback. “We have to argue that the Easter Eggstravaganza is more valuable to Carrot Creek than the Mayor’s reelection campaign celebration.”
I bring my hand to my chest. “And I’m helping with that?”
She blinks at me, then down at my old flannel shirt, faded and worn. Reaching over, she hooks a finger in the lapel and gives it a tug, unbuttoning the top two buttons.
“Oh, Daddy,” she sighs, eyes going hooded as she takes in the few inches of exposed chest. “Yeah, that’ll do.”
