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Because when I get the zipper down to her white, lacy bra, I lose the fight. May as well howl at the moon because there’s no stopping the transformation. I brace a palm on the sink counter when I get dizzy from the surge of blood leaving my head and heading to my lower body. There’s no denying it. I’m horny. And the lack of blood to my brain means I’ll make some bad decisions here if I’m not careful.
I tell myself that it’s not even the fault of the woman in front of me. She just happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe the oil rubbing from earlier had a delayed reaction because now it feels a little intimate as I remember her fingertips running over my bare skin. Whatever it is, at least Lyla won’t have to find out about my inappropriate reaction.
Or so I thought.
Off in the distance, bells chime. It could be a doorbell. All I know is that it startles the shit out of both of us.
Lyla gasps and stumbles a step backward at the same time I move forward, my arm banding protectively around her waist to keep herupright. I temporarily forget about the problem in my pants until her ass brushes it.
There’s no way she didn’t feel it. Instead of mentioning it or getting away from it, she just says, “Someone’s here.”
Her family members would all have a key and not ring the doorbell.
“Do you want me to answer it?” I ask when she doesn’t move.
“N-no. I’ll go. Maybe just stay close in case it’s not someone I recognize?”
I start to ask why she thinks it could be someone she doesn’t recognize but say instead, “Of course. If you need me to intervene, just say my name.”
She nods, and the doorbell rings again. “Zip my dress back up?”
Damn, I sort of dread having to lift the zipper, covering her bra and back again, but I do it, promising myself that I won’t unzip it again. She’ll just have to cut it off or wear it to bed tonight.
The doorbell chimes a third time.
“Doesn’t look like they’re going to leave anytime soon.”
“Nope,” she agrees. “I’m ready.”
She starts out of the bathroom, so I follow her down the hall toward the front of the house. “Stay here,” she says since the door is just around the corner.
“See who it is first,” I tell her.
“My dad will know before I do.” She stands on her toes to look out the peephole, and then her shoulders relax. “It’s just Thane.”
I don’t know who “just Thane” is, but she shoos me away, so I get out of sight.
“Thank god you’re home,” a man’s voice says, sounding relieved. “Can I come in?”
“What? Why?”
The door closes again, and he says, “So your father won’t hear every word we say. Where the hell did you go tonight? How did you get home?” he snaps at her. “What happened to your dress?”
“I fell,” she tells him. “When I was walking through the parking lot. Guess drinking and heels don’t mix.”
“Are you okay?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned. Who is this asshole?
“I’m fine, so you can go home.”
“You shouldn’t have snuck out without me.”
“You were taking too long going to the bathroom!”
“Yeah, well, I ran into someone who wasn’t supposed to be there tonight. We had words.”
Oh shit. Is he talking about RJ? Why didn’t my brother mention any problems?
“The blond guy?” Lyla asks him.
