She was definitely waiting for me to be distracted by the shower, for her chance to search the one room she couldn’t access while I was at the station all day.
Clever girl.
I didn’t turn off the water. Kept the spray running as I stepped out silently, wrapping a towel around my waist. Water dripped down my chest, pooling on the bathroom tile, but I didn’t bother drying off. I wanted to catch my little naughty woman.
I moved to the doorway and leaned against the frame, folding my arms across my chest.
Mira was crouched by my bedside table, one drawer pulled open, her hand halfway inside. She wore a thin satin nightgown that barely reached her thighs, the fabric clinging to curves that made my mouth go dry. The straps were delicate, barely there, and the color was a soft blush that made her skin glow in the lamplight.
My wolf stirred. Hungry and wanting.
“Can I help you?”
She startled so hard from my voice that she nearly fell over. Spun around to face me with wide eyes and guilt written across every feature.
Then her gaze dropped.
Her eyes traveled down my chest. Tracing the water droplets sliding over my abs, following the lines of muscle, pausing at the towel slung low on my hips. Her lips parted. A flush crept up her neck and spread across her cheeks.
The wolf in my chest growled with satisfaction.
Mine. Ours. Look at her looking at us.
“Eyes up here, love.”
Her gaze snapped to my face where I was grinning. The flush deepened, spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath the neckline of that sinful nightgown. But she didn’t look away. Didn’t apologize or make excuses. Just stood there, chin lifted, caught red-handed and apparently deciding to brazen it out.
God, I loved that about her.That fire. That refusal to back down even when she was clearly in the wrong.
“I was borrowing a phone charger,” she said. Her voice came out slightly breathless.
“A charger.”
“Yes.”
“From my underwear drawer?”
The flush turned scarlet. “I didn’t know it was your underwear drawer.”
“Uh-huh.”
I pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her. Giving her plenty of time to retreat.
She didn’t.
I stopped inches away. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin and to catch the hitch in her breath when I leaned down. Enough to see her pupils dilate as her body responded.
Mira leaned back instinctively. Her legs hit the edge of the bed and she wobbled, balance failing.
My hands found her waist on instinct, steadying her. The satin was thin enough that I could feel every curve beneath my palms. Warm skin through cool fabric. My fingers flexed involuntarily, pulling her closer, and a small sound escaped her throat.
That sound. I wanted to bottle it. Wanted to spend the rest of my considerably long life finding new ways to make her make that sound again.
I reached past her, my chest brushing her shoulder, and pulled the charger from the drawer she’d been rummaging through.
“Sure you can borrow it,” I said, my mouth close to her ear. “Even though you don’t have a phone. The last one got smashed against a wall, remember?”
In the bathroom, the shower clicked off automatically. The sudden silence made everything feel more intimate.
