Page 7 of Hex Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #7)

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, hair slicked back and glasses abandoned on the bathroom counter, his grand entrance had somewhat lost its impact. Mainly because he was just wearing a towel, skin still slightly damp due to the condensation that had built up in the bathroom.

Tamsin sat on the bed, reading. She looked up briefly when he entered, her eyes flicking away almost instantly—her expression utterly unimpressed. “What took you so long?”

He kept his tone mild. “I had business to take care of.”

Tamsin’s eyes shot to his. “In the shower ?” Then, his words seemed to register, her cheeks turning a faint rose. Her eyes dropped to the towel slung around his waist, her gaze stroking over his abs.

Damnit woman , he thought. She made him want to crawl all over her with just a look.

For a moment though, he was grateful he’d taken care of said ‘business’, otherwise, his towel would have turned into a tent by now.

He walked toward the bed, one hand holding the towel up.

He could ‘accidentally’ flash her—just for the reaction, of course—but he had a feeling he’d tested her patience enough for one day.

And he wasn’t sure he could handle her rejection, not right now, not when he still felt raw from what he’d just done. What he’d decided.

He dipped awkwardly down to grab his suitcase and headed back toward the bathroom.

As he passed near her, the amber and orchid scent of her hit him again, sweet and warm and edged with something new, something tart.

The next thing he knew, however, she’d bolted past him into the bathroom, shutting the door in his face.

He bumped into it.

“Tamsin!” he shouted, letting go of the towel to knock on the closed door with one hand while the other held his suitcase.

The door jerked open just as the damp fabric began to slip.

Max dropped the suitcase and scrambled to catch the towel, managing to yank it up just before he managed to give Tamsin a view she’d probably sooner forget.

Tamsin’s wolf eyes—now far too close—wandered over his chest once more, and this time, her gaze lingered along the trail of hair leading down and under the towel’s edge.

He waited for her to mock him.

“Will you be wearing a kilt?” she asked instead, teeth catching on her bottom lip.

Why the hell would she care if he wore a kilt?

“What are ye getting at, lass? I mean—TamTam,” he corrected.

She looked up at him at that, those pale-blue eyes darkening. If it were anyone else, he might have thought it was with lust. Or rage. Or some delightful combination of the two. But with her? It was just irritation. Surely.

“ TamTam ? That sounds ridiculous.” She leaned forward, her breath warm against his bare chest, causing goosebumps to prickle along the length of his skin.

Fuck fuck fuck . He closed his eyes briefly.

Her voice, however, had him instantly opening his eyes.

“I’ve heard some men don’t wear anything beneath their kilts.

” She cast a lazy glance downward. “Though it’d be a waste on you, wouldn’t it? ” She turned, dismissing him.

As she always did.

Without thinking, Max reached forward, one hand gripping her shoulder, pulling her against him, her back to his front.

Her tense warmth branded him, and he wished he could stand there all night, her body pressed against his.

Unfortunately, his body chose that exact moment to respond, his cock hardening at the feel of her ass pressed flush to his hips.

He tilted his lower body away so she wouldn’t feel the blatant evidence of his sudden—and unexpected—arousal, but he wasn’t sure if he’d been quick enough.

I dinnae think I would recover so quickly…

He leaned down, breath hot against the curl of her ear. “If ye wanted a show, ye could’ve said so, Tam. Nae need to try and tease me into it.”

Her entire body stiffened in annoyance; as much as he wished it were something else.

His grin grew against the side of her head.

Slowly, deliberately, he let his hand slide down her neck and shoulder—his palm scalded by the silken feel of her—then let go and stepped back, turning to face the bed so she couldn’t see the towel standing at full-mast at his hips. “Enjoy that cold shower.”

“Listen, you Highland Headache, you’re one comment away from turning into a newt.”

“Ah! But we are nae in bed.” He threw a quick glance over his shoulder. “The pity.”

“In bed?” Her expression turned blank before he looked away again.

“Ye said ye’d turn me into a toad if I touched ye while we shared a bed. We are nae in bed.”

“Toad. Newt. Same same.” He could feel her glare burning into his shoulder blades. “Don’t you dare bust in on me when I’m in the shower!”

He tried to look innocent when he looked at her again. “Why would I do that?”

She hmphed. “Doors aren’t exactly a barrier, are they?”

Not for a phantom, at any rate. “Ach, Tam. I dinnae get my kicks from spying on cranky witches.”

No, he just got them from imagining naked ones.

And apparently pissing them off.

Tamsin slammed the door—but not before he caught the ghost of a smirk on her lips.