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“I’ve heard that. Marissa has some shifter clients. Give me a few minutes to call around and find out what they’re using, and I’ll get back to you.”
I agreed, and we said quick goodbyes before she hung up.
August came back in the room as soon as I turned it off, taking a seat beside me and draping an arm over my shoulder. I leaned against him, and he squeezed my arm lightly.
“How’s she feeling about it?”
“Seems okay now. She was upset at first, but I think she’s getting over it. The hair thing gives her something else to worry about.”
“Good.” He kissed my forehead lightly. So lightly, I wondered if I’d imagined it. “You’re handling it well.”
“I like to think so.”
“I’m not wondering, Fireball. You’re dealing with it better than I would’ve expected. Better than I am, too.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re cool, calm, and collected all the time.”
He snorted. “I’m a warm, angry mess.”
“You are not.”
“Sure I am. Can’t even get the sight of you in the shower out of my head or mouth.”
“You’re still tasting me?”
“In my dreams. Including daydreams. And those dreams are constant.”
“We can make that a reality.”
“Can we?” His hand dragged over my thigh, lightly.
“Mmhm.”
“How?”
He wanted me to tell him exactly what I needed him to do to me.
My face was flushed. “Start with taking my shorts off.”
I was still wearing the spandex from the night before.
His fingers were slightly rough against my skin as he slipped the tips of them under the waistband, then slowly peeled them down my thighs.
His chest was rumbling in satisfaction when my legs were free, my lower half exposed to the world.
Well, not the world.
Just August.
“You smell so fucking good.”
The words made my toes curl, and he hadn’t even touched me yet.
“My shirt, too,” I breathed.
“My shirt, you mean?”
“No, you made it mine when you forced me to wear it.”
