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“You don’t think you transforming mid-fuck might have freaked me out at all?” I demanded. I didn’t even know why I was so annoyed—except I did know. It was because I’d started to like Luke and I’d thought maybe he was different, and now he’d turned out to be a typical self-serving werewolf dickhead after all. I grabbed my shirt and yanked it on, glaring at him.
Luke glared right back. “Really? First of all, you were the one who came onto me, Mr. Let Me Carry You Up The Stairs Like A Real Life GI Joe, Get You All Hot And Bothered, And Then Kiss You.” He paused. “As titles go it’s kind of clunky, but you get my drift.”
He really was annoyingly charming, and the corners of my mouth turned up in an unwilling smile.
“Anyway,” he said, “second of all, you literally just spent the evening with me in my wolf form, and it was fine. So what’s with the overreaction?”
And shit. He had a valid point.
Two valid points.
I ran a hand over the back of my neck and examined the rug on his floor. It was a truly ugly green and orange pattern, and it distracted me long enough for me to get my thoughts in line. Luke was right, and I was overreacting to something that hadn’t even happened.
I was the asshole in this scenario.
“You’re right,” I said. “I did come onto you, so I don’t get to be mad that you took me up on my offer.”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “The sex was pretty great, for the record.”
“But not ‘so good you shifted’ great,” I said.
Luke snorted. “Yeah, the bar’s been set pretty high, sorry. But hey, maybe next time you can fuck me properly and see what happens.”
God, it was tempting. But this conversation had just reinforced that sleeping with my clients was a surefire way to make things awkward, so I shook my head. “There’s not going to be a next time.”
Luke looked genuinely disappointed—and didn’t my ego love that?—but then he straightened in his chair, pushing his shoulders back, and said, “Fine. No more sex. But you’re not gonna fire me as a client, are you?”
My brow creased. “Why would you think that?”
He shrugged. “Because you’ve got that dumb no-getting-involved rule, and we broke it.” His gaze dropped to the floor.
Shit. Now I really felt like an asshole.
“Luke, I’m not going to ditch you.” I stood, doing my best to ignore the damp jizz spots on the hem of my tee. “Just because we fooled around one time, there’s no reason we can’t keep working together. So I’ll see you tomorrow morning at seven?”
I didn’t like how the relief on Luke’s face made my insides squirm, but then he flashed me a smile. “Seven? We’re sleeping in now?”
“I’m feeling generous. But we can make it six if you’d prefer?”
“Seven’s perfect,” he said quickly, walking me to the door. “See you tomorrow.”
As I jogged home, guilt prodded at my insides.
Way to go, Hunter! an annoying little voice in the back of my head taunted. Fooled around with your client, then made him think you were going to abandon him over something that was your idea in the first place. Outstanding work!
I told the little voice to shut the fuck up.
When I’d first learned about werewolves, I’d been surprised to find out that all those TV shows from my youth had been wrong. Although shifters were a hell of a lot harder to injure than the average bear—or wolf—they didn’t heal instantly. Which meant that the Hyde Panaceum, the total body wellness center Dylan and I worked out of, was always busy. The Panaceum was a sleek, modern building that was all soft colors and gleaming pale wood surfaces. The main area housed a gym, and then it split into a series of private rooms that held Dylan’s podiatry business, my shifter rehab, a skin care clinic, and three massage therapists.
I waited near the reception desk the following morning, and Luke turned up just before seven, wrapped in a sweater and clutching a cardboard tray with two coffee cups.
“I hope I’m not late. I was waiting on coffee. I got you an Americano,” he said with a grin.
I’d been concerned that things might be awkward after last night, but those worries dissolved when I saw his bright smile. Obviously we were just going to pretend that yesterday’s hand job hadn’t happened, and I was fine with that. More than fine.
Even if it had been really fucking hot and I’d ended up jerking off to the memory of it this morning. But I was gonna pretend that hadn’t happened too.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the cup and inhaling the fresh scent of coffee beans and creamer. I appreciated the coffee, but I appreciated the gesture more.
