I can’t get caught up in the way Mason looks at me. Because it’s not real. This is all spells. Voodoo sex magic.
I have to get out of here. Find Ivy. Undo what Auntie Nelle did. Finish getting ready for the wedding. Also explain the missing ring. And decide if I should come clean about what happened here today, what I’m probably about to let happen again. I probably shouldn’t fess up. It’s not like most people would believe that my deceased aunt was able to pull this off. Or that shapeshifters even exist. Rick doesn’t even believe in anything paranormal. He’d just think I’m a slut. A cheating slut who’s lost her mind.
My aunt is probably giggling herself silly right now while sitting on a cloud preening her angel wings. She often talked about sexy rogues who would sweep a woman off her feet, read lots of romance novels – always had one or more of those paperbacks with the women being ravished by sexy shirtless men on the cover close by. And that’s exactly what’s happened to me today. I was ravished by a shirtless (and pantsless) shapeshifter sex god.
This is not my fault. If she thinks this is the kind of thing I want – to be kidnapped and kept in a gorgeous lakeside house of my dreams with a hot guy that can turn into a giant white wolf? One that can erase anxiety with a noise he makes? I give my head a sharp shake. God, when you put it like that?
I need a minute to myself. I need to think. I need a conversation with my sister!
And now, damn it, he’s shampooing my hair and oh… Oh, wow. A moan escapes my mouth as his strong fingers massage my scalp. I can’t let myself think on this because it’s part of a fantasy I’ve had, a fantasy I’ve had every time I’ve been in the shower with a guy where I imagine him doing this, but it never happens.
Shower sharing isn’t typically all it’s cracked up to be. It’s cramped and you’re often shivering while waiting to get under the water or worrying you’re hogging the water and leaving the other person shivering. Except now. Because there are multiple spray nozzles keeping us both wet and warm and a hot guy with his fingers in my hair and lust in his eyes. Showers with the shapeshifter are sensational.
He rinses the shampoo out of my hair while I stare at his chest, emotion burning in my own.
Soapy fingers find their way between my legs.
“Hey!” I push him. “Stop trying to use sex to distract me.”
He shakes his head, not budging. “Not what I’m doin’, baby. I just want more.”
“You can’t have more,” I say.
His eyes sparkle like he finds this funny.
“My turn now?” he tries, passing me the sponge.
“As if,” I grumble, crossing my arms over my breasts, feeling super self-conscious.
“Maybe next time,” he quips, then begins to soap himself up. I’m soon mesmerized by watching his soapy hands move over his torso, working up a lather that has me practically drooling. That cut jawline. Beautiful skin. Sexy mouth and bright white smile. Water droplets and bubbles drift down miles of hot, muscled skin, leaving my fingers tingling, wanting to help. Instead, I deny myself. Because if I wash him, if I put my hands on him the way I have the urge to do right now… I might fall under the spell and never, ever leave.
He tips his head back under the water and I wish I could take a picture to preserve this perfection in front of me. That Adam’s apple, the solid pecs, the happy trail leading to a thick, beautiful… I shake it off and my eyes move back up to his mouth. That mouth.
He wants to put that mouth between my legs again. And the two-second sampler I got tells me that would be interesting. Whatshisface doesn’t do oral. It’s been a while since I’ve had that. Since the first time I had sex with him, in fact. He didn’t see it through, got out of the vicinity and used his dick too soon, but little did I know that’d be the first and last time he went downtown. I went on a blowjob strike with him three months ago swearing he’d never get head again until he got over himself and was willing to give it to me, too. He laughed it off. I didn’t find it funny.
The idea of Mason’s mouth on me? Of mine on him? I work down a swallow with a bit of difficulty, gaze fixed on Mason’s soapy hands as he soaps up his cock. His big, beautiful, hard cock. His hands don’t stay there long enough for my viewing pleasure. It’s about cleanliness, it seems, as his soapy fingers roam the rest of the vicinity and work their way up to his armpits.