Page 42 of Bewitching the Wolf

Don’t be ridiculous, Tippy Honeywell.

Goddess, I definitely am going into my heat. I must be.

It’s said that the only time vixen shifters lose control is during heat.

Fuck, no way.

Not now. Not here.

I turn the blender up to high for a few seconds, then turn it off and add two teaspoons of my quit-fast elixir.

When Jax walks in, the towel slung easily around his hips, I hand the glass over, trying not to look at him. But my gaze scrapes on the juncture where the towel meets his flesh, the line of dark hair, the v of muscles running down toward…

Oh gods, is that a bulge? Is he… aroused?

Well, that would make two of us.

Jax’s lip curls at he stares at the glass. “Can’t I even get dressed before you force this shit down my throat?”

The old Jax is back, rude as fuck. This Jax, I can handle.

“Fine,” I huff. “Get dressed first and work your way up to it.”

I make an attempt to drag it back. But he holds on, and we find ourselves in a tug of war.

Jax lets go suddenly and my hand jerks.

For the second time today, green liquid slops out of the glass. But this time it lands on Jax, not the floor. Well, to be precise, on his towel. Right where… where… oh gods.

I stare at his crotch, my eyes riveted to the swelling under the towel. I swear to the goddess it twitches.

When I drag my eyes away, his eyebrows arc up. “Messy,” he purrs softly.

I can’t help it, I look again and yes, that is definitely an impressive bulge right there under the glob of dripping green gloop on his towel. Heat rides up my neck.

“Wanna help me clean it up?” Jax murmurs huskily. Or was that his wolf?

“No,” I practically squawk. “I’m going to take a shower. And don’t you dare peek. Either of you.”

CHAPTER 12

JAX

After I’ve removed the towel and dressed, I stride toward the front door of the den. Exerting Herculean self-control, I manage to keep my eyes averted from the backyard.

Because if I catch even a glimpse of Tippy showering, my wolf might well take charge.

Already the damn beast is making me behave badly. Crass remarks fly out of my mouth before I can vet them while I hold her gaze with lascivious confidence—something human Jax would never have been able to pull off.

And I hate to fucking say it, but I—okay, okay— we, love the effect it’s having on Tippy.

She’s flustered, blushing at the merest provocation, her eyes sparkling bright. She’s trying to look pissed at me the whole time, but by the way her ears twitch and her lips quirk upward at the corners, I’m pretty damn sure she’s enjoying it too.

Go on, take a look at her pert tits and her little toosh.

Fuck off, I grunt.

I promised I wouldn’t look, and a promise is a promise. So I take the smoothie out the front, where I sit in the bright late-morning light and stare at some blue bees that are collecting pollen from the flowers in the array of pots.