Page 20 of Purrfectly Outfoxed
Then: “WHAT THE FUCK?!”
The shower curtain is ripped back and Tabitha’s face appears—eyes wide, mouth open, hair plastered to her face. She looks down at herself, then at me, then back at herself.
“You—how did you—GET OUT!”
I don’t move. “Not until we talk.”
“We can talk when I’m not NAKED.”
“Funny. You didn’t seem to mind being mostly naked last night.”
Her face goes red—whether from anger or embarrassment, I can’t tell. Probably both. “That was different!”
“How?”
“I was wearing a robe!”
“Barely.”
She grabs the shower curtain and yanks it closed again. “Get out, Jasper. Now.”
“Make me.”
“I’m serious!”
“So am I.” I lean forward slightly, pitching my voice lower. “You framed me. Made me look like a destructive animal in front of sweet, little old Bea. Got me locked in a room. All because you’re too scared to admit what’s really happening here.”
“Nothing is happening here!”
“Oh, sweetheart. Lying isn’t going to change the truth.”
The water shuts off. There’s a tense moment of silence, and then a dripping wet arm snakes out from behind the curtain, blindly reaching for the towel rack.
I grab the towel before she can.
“JASPER!”
“Admit it,” I say, holding the towel just out of reach. “This isn’t Halloween magic. You feel it too. The pull. The connection. The fact that you can’t stop thinking about me any more than I can stop thinking about you.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Then why is your heart racing right now? Why did I feel every ounce of your desire last night when we were in thekitchen? Why are you blocking me out of your head instead of just ignoring me like a normal person would?”
“Because you’re annoying!”
“Try again.”
The shower curtain flies open and she stands there, completely naked and dripping wet and absolutely furious.
And god help me, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Her curves glisten under the bathroom light, water droplets tracing paths down skin that’s all creamy softness and tempting shadows, and for a moment, I’m struck dumb, my brain short-circuiting on the sheer perfection of her. Those full breasts, the dip of her waist flaring into hips that could make a man beg, and lower—god, lower is a paradise I shouldn’t be staring at, but I am, because how could I not? She’s a vision of feline grace even in her rage, eyes flashing like storm clouds, lips parted in what could be a hiss or an invitation.
“Give me the towel,” she demands, voice low and dangerous, one arm instinctively crossing over her chest while the other reaches out, fingers curling like claws.
I dangle it just beyond her grasp, my grin turning wolfish—or foxish, I suppose. “Admit it first. Say the words, Tabitha. This isn’t some seasonal spell wearing off at dawn. We’re fated, you and me. Destined. The whole cosmic joke wrapped up in fur and fate.”
She lunges for the towel, but I sidestep, and suddenly she’s out of the tub, slipping slightly on the wet tile, her body slamming into mine. Wet skin against my bare chest, heat everywhere, and fuck, the scent of her arousal hits me like a freight train despite her best efforts to block our connection. It’s there, faint but undeniable, mixing with the steam and her floral shampoo, making my blood roar.