Page 1023 of One More Kiss

The coyote shifter gave me a reproachful look, then began changing shape, flowing upward into his human form. I turned my back on him, wanting to give him a little privacy.

The next thing I knew, he had grabbed my arm and spun me into an embrace. His lips slanted across mine in a kiss that left me dizzy with its intensity.

When he finally pulled back enough to gaze into my eyes, he spoke quietly. “Are you okay?”

I rested my forehead against his. “I think so. It was touch-and-go there for a minute, though.”

“I noticed.”

“Thank you for pulling me out of it.”

He grinned, the dimple in his cheek begging to be touched. “Anytime.”

“I have one question for you, though,” I said, squeezing my eyes closed.

“Shoot.”

“Are you still naked?”

Connor threw his head back and laughed aloud. “You check on our prisoners. I’ll get dressed. But I’m afraid you’ll have to call the police—my phone was in my jeans pocket.”

* * *

It tookhours for the police to sort out everything that had happened. But when it was all done, Benedict Abercrombie was on his way to jail. Not so much for the attempt to steal his own tea—after all, he hadn’t yet reported the shipment stolen to anyone but me, nor had he filed an insurance claim—but for his attempt to harm me.

Oh. And also, for the suspected murder of the truck driver, David Johnson.

Carmina Ortega, the sommelier, had been taken in for questioning, but she had insisted that she knew nothing of Abercrombie’s scheme.

And both she and Connor had told the police that I had used my magic only in defense—Abercrombie had been the one who attacked.

I didn’t mention how close I had come to crossing that line, and Connor didn’t either.

By the time we got back to Dallas, it was close to two in the morning.

I probably should have taken the shifter back to his truck, still parked at my office.

But instead, we went to my apartment, where, for the first time since that mind-bending kiss, I admitted something to myself.

I want him.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to decide what to do about that.

Was it a weird stress-response? An adrenalized reaction to coming mostly unscathed through a life-and-death situation?

Quit overthinking this, I told myself. He’s gorgeous and we saved each other. Lust is a perfectly natural response to that.

But I couldn’t quit thinking about the way he pulled me to him after I’d immobilized Abercrombie. The way his lips claimed mine…

It’s just sex.

He’s a shifter. I’m a mage. We’re utterly wrong for each other. It won’t last.

I wasn’t the one-night stand type.

But I also wasn’t looking for a lifelong…what was it the shifters called them?

Right.

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