He opened the door, sticking his head into the room as Cece made a loud sigh behind him. Hanging from the shower rod was a plain cotton sports bra and - his dick pressed against his zipper again - a pink lacy bra.
The matching pink panties were crumpled on the bathroom floor. Briggs closed the door quickly before his urge to do something really inappropriate, like pick up those lace pink panties and bury his face in them, became impossible to ignore.
Her face as pink as those panties, Cece avoided eye contact with him as he grasped the door handle of the second door. “Closet?”
“Yes,” she said.
He took a quick look, shamefully more in the perverted hope he might catch another glimpse of panties rather than suspecting someone might be hiding in it. The closet was small but neatly organized, with not a single pair of panties in sight.
Without looking at Cece, he headed for the door, ignoring the vines brushing against his face and head. “I’ll be downstairs.”
CHAPTER 9
“It’s fine, Cece. It’s no big deal. Every woman has a vibrator, and just because a stupidly handsome polar bear shifter happened to see yours is nothing to freak out about.” Cece told her bathroom mirror reflection.
He also saw your underwear.
Yes, she remembered.
She sighed loudly before pulling her wet hair into a bun on top of her head. She couldn’t hide in her bedroom forever. She zipped a hoodie over her t-shirt and considered pulling sweatpants over her leggings before leaving the bedroom.
Thanks to her shower, she was finally feeling warm. She hated having to go back out in the cold, but she needed firewood chopped. It would be dark soon, and she could tell just by how little heat was trickling from the registers that it would be a ‘sleep in front of the fireplace’ kind of night. She would chop enough to get her through the night. Chopping more would be tomorrow’s problem.
She walked downstairs and peeked into the living room. Briggs was standing near the bay window, texting rapidly on his phone. She studied his ass and his thick thighs before creeping down the hallway and into the kitchen.
Gawking at and lusting over her bodyguard made her feel like she was in some weird romance movie. She needed to figure out how to make peace with the witches after her, and get Briggs the hell out of her house before her magic made her do something she would regret.
She wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening, but her attraction to Briggs was accompanied by a steadily growing pulse of her magic. Her magic wanted him, and Cece was a little alarmed by how difficult it was to contain the magic.
But would it be so bad to fuck Briggs? To give in to what her magic wanted, what it needed and -
Cece, no! Don’t start thinking like that. You control your magic. It doesn’t control you.
She repeated that under her breath as she grabbed her work gloves from the bench by the back door and stepped outside. She immediately began to shiver and considered grabbing her jacket, but she knew from experience that she would be too hot after only a few swings.
She walked across the backyard, breathing deep of the cold, clean air and studying the forest at the far end of the yard. She couldn’t see anything in the trees, but she was suddenly uneasy. It wouldn’t be difficult for someone to hide in the thick trees, to wait and watch for her to walk out alone and defenceless, and then -
“What are you doing?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin and only just managed not to scream when she heard Briggs’s deep voice right behind her.
She whirled around, her heart banging against her ribcage. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Briggs studied the woods before inhaling deeply.
She glanced behind her. “Do you, um, smell anyone?”
“No.” His gaze returned to hers. “Rule number one - you don’t leave the house without telling me. In fact, you don’t go anywhere without telling me. Is that clear?”
“So, I’m your prisoner?” she said.
“Call it whatever you want,” he said, “but don’t leave the fucking house without telling me.”
“Fine! God,” she said. Shivering, she headed toward the massive pile of logs, yanking the axe out of the large stump she used as a chopping block.
“What are you doing?” Briggs asked.
“Chopping wood,” she said a bit snottily.
