“Why are the plants only in your room?” he asked.
“My aunt hated clutter,” she said. “Having a bunch of plants in the rooms felt cluttery to her.” She poked at her pasta. “I guess I could put plants all over the house now.”
Her face went red, and he could see the glint of tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said.
“Thank you.” She drank some water and blinked rapidly before handing him the bowl of pasta. “Finish off the rest.”
“You sure?” he asked. He was still hungry and could happily eat the rest, but he’d poked around in the fridge and the pantry while Cece was in the shower. The amount of food she had made him wonder how the hell she wasn’t starving to death. Of course, he did tend to eat more than most people, but still…
“I’m sure,” she said. “You must have worked up an appetite chopping that much wood.”
“It wasn’t that much,” he said.
“Are you kidding me? It would have taken me hours to chop up that much,” she said. “You have no idea how excited I am to have this much wood ready for the fireplace. I hate chopping wood.”
He took the pasta bowl and emptied it onto his plate. They finished eating in silence, and he helped Cece clear the table. When she filled the sink with hot water and submerged their dishes, he grabbed a dishtowel and joined her at the double sink, being careful not to let his arm even brush against hers.
“You don’t have to dry the dishes,” she said.
He ignored her and took a plate from the rack, dried it, and put it in the cupboard before reaching for another. Cece looked like she might protest before turning back to the sink.
Ignoring the happy growls from his bear at how close they were to the little human, Briggs pretended he wasn’t at all tempted to lift Cece onto the counter, strip off her clothes, and fuck her senseless.
CHAPTER 10
Cece curled into a tighter ball in the bed and buried her head under the multiple blankets. She stuck her arm out from under the blankets and groped blindly for her phone on the nightstand, muttering a curse when her numb fingers almost dropped it. She checked the time before sighing loudly. It was just after midnight, and she was exhausted, but despite being in bed for over three hours, she couldn’t fall asleep.
She scrolled aimlessly through Facebook, not actually staring at what was on the screen but thinking about the damn polar bear shifter sleeping just down the hall. She hadn’t expected him to help with the dishes, hadn’t expected to be that close to him, and she’d spent the entire time both terrified that he would accidentally brush up against her and hoping against hope that he would. If he touched her, it would make him want her as much as she wanted him. He wouldn’t be able to resist touching her again, fucking her, and if she fucked him, not only would her magic be boosted, but she’d have the best orgasm of her life. She was sure of it.
Her pussy throbbed, and her nipples were tight buds against her pajamas. Her vibrator was still tucked away in the nightstand, and she considered grabbing it. It would relieve her aching need, warm her up, and help her sleep. What was the harm?
Plenty of harm when Briggs hears it. You want to be that desperate girl using her vibrator while he listens in the next goddamn room?
Her vibrator wasn’t that loud.
He’s a shifter. He probably has a crazy sense of hearing and smell. What if he smells your… excitement?
Oh God…that probably wasn’t a thing, but what if it was? She would die of shame. Nope, using the vibrator was not happening. Hell, masturbating with her hand was completely off the table. Not while Briggs was under the same roof.
You don’t need to masturbate. Just go to his room and ask him to fuck you. He will. You know he will. He couldn’t stop staring at your ass earlier.
She pinched her lips together as reality rocketed through her. Why was she even thinking this way? Briggs only wanted her because of her magic, and it made her a real shit even to consider sleeping with him. She needed to remember that Briggs wasn't actually attracted to her and stop mooning over him like a bookworm nerding out over the quarterback. He was way out of her league and always would be.
That thought was depressing, but it did help cool her lust and keep her feet firmly in reality. She put her phone back on the nightstand and tried to ignore how cold she was, but it was impossible.
Her bedroom had officially reached ‘too cold to sleep’ levels. Cece slid out of bed, grateful for the thick socks she wore that protected her feet from the cold floor. She grabbed one of the extra blankets from the bed and headed for the hallway.
Christ, she thought she’d been cold lying in bed, but away from the nest of blankets on her bed and her own pitiful body heat, her body shook wildly, and her teeth chattered. She’d barely taken two steps toward the staircase when Briggs appeared in the open doorway of his bedroom.
Unlike Cece, who wore thick flannel pajamas, a hoodie, and her knitted hat, he wore a thin pair of sleep pants and a navy tank top that clung just as lovingly to his flat stomach as the white one had earlier. His feet were bare, and his slow up and down perusal of Cece’s ridiculous outfit made her flush.
“How are you not freezing?” she asked.
“Why are you leaving your bedroom?” He joined her at the top of the stairs, and she could feel the heat radiating from his massive body. She ignored her immediate urge to flatten herself against his body in an attempt to leech some of that enviable heat. Touching Briggs was a bad idea on so many levels.
“It’s too cold in my room,” she said. “I’m going to sleep downstairs in front of the fireplace.”
