My Forbidden Desire by Carolyn Jewel Page B

hard or anything, but hey, he wasn’t that far from a boner, and there wasn’t anyone controlling his responses anymore. If he wanted to act on his impulses, he could. So, she was right. The towel was a good thing. He concentrated on her face even though he would have preferred to concentrate on those two lonely buttons holding together her shirt.
    “Thanks,” he said. He hadn’t had consensual sex with a witch in too many years to count, so there was no telling what he’d do if he got a hard-on for her. In the process of wrapping the towel around his waist, he increased the distance between them. No way was he back in control. And it was up to him to keep what control he had. Freedom could be a bitch.
    “You’re welcome.” She headed for the door that led to the back stairs, but she turned around before she got there. “You know, you’re not so bad when you try to be nice.”
    “It’s not easy.” He looked down as he brought the end of the towel around his hip. “Damn thing’s pink.”
    The corner of her mouth twitched. “You’re man enough to carry it off. Or are you afraid you aren’t pretty in pink?”
    “Baby, I’m so pretty in pink, I’m worried you won’t be able to help yourself.” He tucked in the top of the towel and stood with his hands on his hips. “I don’t mind not wearing it.” He waited a beat. Sure enough, she was looking at him again, but he couldn’t tell if she was pissed off or trying not to laugh. When she didn’t come back with a smart-ass put-down—mages and witches didn’t tolerate much shit from his kind—he said softly, “For you, baby, I’ll take it off.” He braced himself for the smack-down that was coming for sure.
    “But my clothes stay on, Xia, so where does that leave you?”
    “Same place as ever, I guess.” He shrugged. “All alone with your pink towels.”
    “Don’t go making me actually like you.”
    He walked over to her and didn’t even care that he was feeling her and the talisman both or that it was cranking him something fierce. She was standing near the door that led downstairs—the kitchen was so small, just about anywhere was near the door—and Xia put his hands on either side of the frame. He leaned in until she practically had her back to the wooden surface. “You did good tonight. Kept your head on straight.”
    “Thanks.”
    “You get any more of those feelings, you let me know.”
    Slowly, she tilted her head back until it rested against the door, and then she smiled and his blood about boiled. “What feelings would those be?”
    His stomach did a little flip. “The ones where you’re okay with me not wearing this towel.” To his amped-up vision, the shadow panther on her belly glowed a soft gray. And, uh-oh, she did not have on a bra. What would she do if he reached over and undid those buttons? His head was so full of the fantasy of reaching in and unfastening her shirt that well, hell, he reached in and—she went completely stiff. “What?”
    “Something’s coming.” She spoke at the same time he heard the kitchen window crack.
    He lunged for his knife on the counter where Alexandrine had set it down. He had a grip on the hilt when the proofing around the back staircase door gave way. The magic tearing away scraped like sandpaper over his heart. A split second before the door burst open, Alexandrine threw herself to the floor. Her evasive action was why the mageheld who came through didn’t kill her with his first strike. But she was on her back when the fiend jumped her. Her knee in his crotch barely slowed him. She gave him a damn hard strike, too.
    With the window rattling like a train, Xia launched himself at the mageheld and grabbed the thing by his chin. He had one clawed hand on the leather thong around her neck and was tugging, but Alexandrine went wild. Fucking wild. Hell, she practically threw the mageheld off her. Magic burned in his bones, and as Xia crouched down and drove his knife into the fiend’s