Page 13 of Bear to be Wild (Moonlight Siren #5)
MARIBELLE
W hen I stepped into the massage room and saw the large male body draped across my table, I paused, ready to bolt. With only the tiniest and tightest pair of shorts on, he revealed way too much of his overly-tanned body. The cloying scent of body spray hit, and I almost gagged.
“Hey there.” He glanced down at my name tag. “Maribelle.” He rolled out my name in three long, low syllables that never sounded so retch-inducing, although from the satisfied gleam in his eyes, he probably thought it sounded sexy.
“Oh, hi,” I said quickly, forcing my feet to move forward. “You’re Jackson, right? Here for an enchanted stone massage?”
“Guilty, on both counts.” He flashed a megawatt smile that failed to dazzle me, no matter how much he’d bleached those teeth. He moved his body sinuously as he stretched out onto his stomach. “I like to take care of my body, especially after a hard day of training.”
I gritted my teeth and pushed myself on. Just an hour. You’ve dealt with worse.
He purred like a smug cat as I forced myself to go through the motions. I pressed heated, enchanted stones down his back.
“Yeah, right there.” He moaned, wriggling his butt up.
Eww. I bit back a gag reflex and a sharp retort.
Jackson peeked back at me, winking. “You have magic hands, Maribelle .”
I suppressed a snort and focused on the treatment, distracting myself from the distasteful act of touching his warm flesh by envisioning what hex I would use on him if I hadn’t sworn my hexing days were over.
He’d look quite nice hanging from the bow of the ship by his tiny shorts.
I grinned to myself. At least he’d be able to work on his tan.
But what if I accidentally bound myself to him? The last thing I’d be able to endure was being stuck with this frosted-tipped buffoon.
If I had to be stuck with anyone, at least it had been with Roan. Kind, considerate, sexy-as-hell Roan. How he’d gone along with this complicated scenario to save my job, and despite the nuisance, he’d never once complained about it. Roan was so different from Jackson.
How could I ever have painted Roan with the same brush as this swaggering shifter? Just because they were both into fitness? How wrong I was. While Roan focused on helping a client, mind and body, Jackson was all body spray and bravado and, worst of all—pec dancing.
I pictured Roan’s imitation of it while we’d walked on the island together and smiled. Before we’d kissed.
Before we’d gone to dinner and wandered the deck together, stopping to watch a show.
And that dancing—pure fire. I’d never been so aware of another soul before, our bodies touching, so close, so heated—and yet not enough.
No wonder we’d ended up sleeping together.
The smoldering heat between us had been impossible to ignore.
It had been a magical night. The way he’d explored me with the hands, the way he’d brought me pleasure with his magical tongue, the way he filled me up so exquisitely, I thought I’d shatter—and love every minute of it. How he’d been so attentive and ensured I was satisfied over and over again.
The best night of my life.
And now?
Now I was stuck here with a smarmy shifter.
Jackson slithered his butt up again and moaned suggestively. I pressed the hot stone in a little too firmly, not exactly by accident. He yelped.
“Sorry,” I said sweetly. “Try not to move so much so you don’t get hurt.”
Or hexed.
Somehow I made it through the session.
He sat up. “That was epic.” He moaned, stretching out like a content cat.
“I’ll leave you to get dressed.”
“Wait,” he stopped me. “We should get drinks later, you and me.”
Eww, I’d rather synchronize swim with piranhas. “Sorry, I don’t date clients.” I headed for the door.
“Fine. You’re fired,” he said with a laugh and grinned wider, as if he’d landed a killer joke in a comedy club. “So what do you say? Nine o’clock?”
“No, thank you.” That most definitely would not be happening, even if I was no longer anchored to a bear shifter with kind eyes and gentle disposition—the opposite of this swagger machine.
Jackson’s smile faltered. “Aw, come on, don’t play coy?—”
“Excuse me,” I cut him off before having to field another unwanted coaxing attempt and slipped out of the room.
When I sagged against the door and exhaled, Charlotte turned my way. “You okay?”
Walking over to her, I muttered, “I’ll need to cleanse the crap out of that room before my next client.”
She cocked her head in question.
“How much sage would I have to burn to get rid of the thick ooze of testosterone and body spray?”