Page 26 of Wedding the Werepanther

“You have my permission to take it off.” He smiles, hot and wicked, his voice dropping to a purr, all sin and chocolate. “I’m happy to help.”

He wants me—it’s clear. But his words also make it clear he’s playing a game of seduction.

The discomfort of the clothes mixes with my uncertainty over his motives to create churning confusion. My social anxiety kicks in: am I reading any of this right? I lift my hands and bat at the air. “I can’t do this right now.” Spinning, I hurry into the hall, the Heels from Hell making me sway like I’m crossing the deck of a storm-tossed ship.

The lights go out all over the house, the sudden darkness disorienting. My foot comes down hard, my ankle wobbling as the heel twists under me. My arms pinwheel as I tip backward—

Strong arms snap me up, pressing me to a firm body.

I suck in a shocked breath, all musk and pine and wildness, the call of the forest radiating from him.

Shadow stands me upright, keeping hold as I cling to his shoulders, cursing the shoes from hell, which must have been made by the same person as the girdle.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Then he raises his voice. “Victoria, turn the lights back onnow.”

A door bangs in a no.

He sighs and picks me up, carrying me effortlessly upstairs.

Damn. Exactly how strong is he?

In a few moments, he sets me down on something soft, and there’s the sound of a lighter flicking, the tiny flame bright as he lights a couple of the candles I keep on the dresser. In their soft glow, he comes back over to the bed and crouches in front of me, clever fingers unbuckling the Heels from Hell.

My tortured foot spasms with delight as the thin, cutting straps fall away.

He pauses once he’s done, my bare feet resting on his thigh, his gorgeous face limned by candlelight. “I need to take Pepperpot back to town. It’ll take less than ten minutes. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes.” Ten minutes will hopefully be enough to get out of the Girdle of Doom and back into comfy clothes. “Go.”

He gives my feet one last caress before setting them softly on the ground and gliding silently from the room.

I flop back on the bed, the girdle making my laugh kind of breathless. “That was very bad, not good, horrible. I dub it the Datepocalypse.”

Victoria slams another door, which only makes me laugh harder.

Then I remember the way Shadow carried me upstairs, the concern in his voice, how gentle his hands were as he removed my shoes…

I pull a pillow over my face to yell into it. First, he’s all slick seduction. Then he’s sweet and caring.

Will the real Shadow please stand up?

The morning after the Datepocalypse, I open my eyes and yelp, pulling the sheet up to my neck, even though I’m wearing a sleep tee and shorts.

Shadow looms in the open doorway, a paper cup from Grounds for Celebration in each hand. He grins as he stalks forward. “I got coffee.”

Screw being upset about the surprise looming. Delivered coffee forgives a lot of sins. I make gimme hands and snag the outstretched cup, taking a big gulp. The perfect blend of sweet espresso and chocolate coats my tongue. “That’s so good. How did you know I like mochaccinos?”

“It’s what you always order.” Brilliant green eyes glitter at me over the rim of his cup.

“So you’ve what? Been watching me this whole time to see what I like?” I noticed him around every time I went into town lately but kept telling myself it couldn’t be because he’s interested in me. A guy like him? Nah.

“Yes.” His voice drops to a purr. “The better to give you what you most desire, my wife.”

“Don’t call me that.” Even as the words leave my lips, my heart skips as my entire body flushes with awareness of him. I take another drink, trying to hide my blush behind the cup.

His grin goes hot and wicked.

Shit. Damned panther knows exactly how flustered I am, probably smells it.