Page 9 of Restoring His Howl

“I don’t want to attract a lot of attention.” Dillon unbuttoned the shirt. “It’s too much.”

“You won’t, and it’s fine. I’m guessing there will be some outrageous costumes.” Cinders tugged on the sides of the garment, despite his instinct to rip the thing off Dillon. “I’ll be flashier, if that helps. We’ll be the best of both worlds—a city cop and a sheriff looking for some hot action and something to handcuff. No law will be ignored, and we both have the right to remain sexy.” Christ, he’d slipped back into his stripper speak. He plucked the aviator glasses from the box. “See? We’ll be sexy bitches.”

“If you’re going for cheesy, all you need is a thick moustache,” Dillon said.

“I was aiming for hot, but I’ll manage. You should draw a moustache on, too.” He wriggled his brows. “I’m horrible at makeup. I love it, but I can’t put it on for shit.”

Dillon laughed. “I’m not much better, but we’ll figure it out.”

Cinders had made progress. Dillon seemed more comfortable with him, and those kisses had been dynamite. He’d nailed the second step—costuming Dillon. Now for step three: more time together. Though he’d claimed he wouldn’t rush the wolf shifter, he wasn’t ready to do the separate thing, either. “Want to grab food and sneak back up here to watch a movie?”

Dillon paled. He ripped off the shirt, and before Cinders could say anything, he darted out of the room. Within seconds, he’d raced down the corridor to his room and slammed the door.

Cinders removed his sunglasses and stared down the hallway. What just happened? They’d been getting along so well. He wanted to fix things with Dillon and find out what he’d done wrong, so he could take it back. Before he barged in on Dillon, he’d give him space and rethink his strategy. His jaguar wanted Dillon, and he couldn’t give up until the big cat got his way.

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