Page 14 of Purrfectly Outfoxed

“I do say so.”

“Then why are you still standing here?”

Damn him. Damn him and his stupid face and his stupid abs and the stupid way he makes me feel like I’m seventeen and seeing a boy for the first time.

“Goodnight, asshole,” I say with as much dignity as I can muster, which isn’t much considering my knees are still shaking.

“Sweet dreams, beautiful. And it’s Jasper, by the way.”

“Sure, Casper. Whatever.”

“Jasper,” he says again, and I roll my eyes.

“I said, whatever.”

I turn on my heel and march out of the kitchen, through the living room, and down the hall to my room. I close the door firmly behind me and lean against it, pressing my palms flat against the cool wood.

My heart is racing. My skin is flushed. And between my legs?—

No. Not thinking about that.

‘You know I can hear you, right?’His voice slides into my mind, amused and entirely too satisfied.‘Your thoughts are very loud right now. Maybe if you’d reach down and touch that spot you’re thinking about, we could both have a good night.’

‘Get out of my head.’

‘Can’t. Halloween magic, remember? We’re stuck with each other.’

‘Then at least have the decency to pretend you’re not listening.’

‘Where’s the fun in that?’

I growl—out loud this time—and shift back into my cat form, padding over to my heated bed and curling up tight. Maybe if I ignore him hard enough, he’ll get bored and leave me alone.

But ignoring him proves impossible, especially when his laughter echoes in my mind like a persistent itch I can’t scratch.‘Sweet dreams, Kitty. Don’t worry, I’ll behave... mostly.’I curl tighter into a ball, tail wrapping around my nose, willing sleep to come and shut him out. But my thoughts keep drifting back to that kitchen encounter—his scent, his heat, the way his eyes pinned me in place like prey that secretly wants to be caught.

The way his voice sounded when he called me ‘mine.’

Fuck.

I am so screwed.

Chapter 5

Jasper

Iwake up grinning like an idiot.

Sunlight streams through the small window in the laundry room, and I’m still in my fox form, curled up in the basket of blankets Bea made for me. My tail is tucked over my nose, and for a few blissful seconds, I just lie there, basking in the warmth and replaying last night in my head.

The way Tabitha looked in that robe.

The way she smelled—like flowers and sunshine and something uniquely her.

The way her breath hitched when I got close.

The way she tried so hard to pretend she wasn’t affected when I could feel her desire pulsing through our connection like a goddamn heartbeat.

‘Stop being so smug,’ her voice cuts through my mental replay.‘It’s nauseating.’