Chapter 7
Tabitha
His mouth crashes against mine and every thought in my head evaporates.
I should push him away. Should shift and claw him. Should do literally anything except what I’m doing, which is opening for him, letting his tongue slide against mine, moaning into his mouth like I’ve been starving for this.
Maybe I have been.
His hands grip my waist, fingers digging into my wet skin hard enough to bruise, and god, I want the bruises. Want proof that this is real, that I’m not imagining the way my entire body lights up when he touches me.
This isn’t the mate bond, my rational brain tries to argue. This isn’t real. It’s just biology. Instinct. You haven’t had sex in a really long time, that’s all this is. You don’t actually want him.
But my body calls bullshit on that theory while heat pools low in my belly, my nipples harden against his bare chest, and I arch into him like I can’t get close enough.
He breaks the kiss long enough to murmur against my lips, “Still think this isn’t fate?”
“It’s not fate. I haven’t been with anyone in over two years and you’re the closest male—”
“Liar. You can’t logic your way out of this.” His mouth trails down my jaw to my neck, teeth scraping against my pulse point. “You smell like my mate. You kiss like my mate. Now let me see if you taste like my mate.”
Before I can respond, he bends slightly and lifts me like I weigh nothing, setting me on the bathroom counter. The cold surface against my ass makes me gasp, but then his hands are on my thighs, pushing them apart, and suddenly the cold is the least of my concerns.
“Jasper—”
“I know,” he says, dropping to his knees between my legs. He looks up at me, those amber eyes dark with hunger. “You’re going to tell me this is a bad idea. That we should stop. That we barely know each other.”
“We don’t—”
“We don’t need to.” His mouth finds my center and my mind goes blank.
“Oh fuck.” I should fight him, push him away. But the moment his tongue sweeps through me, I moan. “God, yes. Keep doing that.”
He chuckles against me, the vibration making my thighs tremble. “That’s more like it, kitty.”
Then he gets serious.
His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes, learning me, tasting me, and I can feel his satisfaction pulsing through our connection every time I gasp or moan or rock against his face. One hand grips my hip, holding me steady, while the other joins his mouth, fingers teasing my entrance.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs between licks. “Better than I imagined.”
“You—oh god—you imagined this?”
“Every goddamn moment since I got here.” He slides one finger inside me and I arch off the counter. “Thought about how you’d sound. How you’d taste. How you’d feel wrapped around me.”
He adds a second finger, crooking them to hit a spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. His mouth finds my clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue across it in rapid strokes.
I’m already close. Embarrassingly close. It’s been so long since anyone touched me like this—since anyone touched me at all—and he’s making it impossible to hold back.
My hands scramble for purchase, knocking over a bottle of lotion.
It lands with a thud and rolls to the sink, but neither of us cares.
His tongue draws circles around my clit, building and building, and then he sucks hard and my whole body shudders.
I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming and dig the other into his hair, probably yanking too hard, but he just growls and doubles down.
I come so hard I swear I black out for a second. When I open my eyes, Jasper’s smirking up at me, chin shiny, eyes smug.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. Dignity gone. Grace obliterated. “What the fuck was that?”
“Told you. Meant for each other.” He presses a kiss to my inner thigh, so gentle it makes me want to claw at him. “You going to let me show you the rest?”
I should say no. I should regain some semblance of control, but really, what good would that do me now? I’m split open, still shuddering as the aftershocks ripple through me, and he’s watching with the naked reverence of a starving man seeing his first sunrise.
“Do your worst,” I manage, voice trembling but steadying by the syllable.
He stands, somehow gathering dignity to himself even with swollen lips and evidence of me gleaming on his chin. He presses his forehead to mine, just for a second, and I realize with a jolt it’s the most intimate thing that’s ever happened to me.
“God, Tabitha,” he murmurs, voice gone hoarse and worshipful. “I can’t fucking wait to claim you.”
He wraps his hand around the back of my head and drags me to him, his mouth colliding with mine with both hunger and tenderness.
This kiss is different from the first. Slower. Deeper. I can taste myself on his tongue and it should be weird, but it’s not. It’s hot as hell. And I’m wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer even though we’re already as close as we can be.
Jasper’s hands slide under my thighs, fingers splaying to anchor me.
He grinds against me once, twice—fuck, he’s hard, his cock pressing into the apex of my spread legs, hot even through the rasp of the denim.
I want it. Want him inside me, even though I know it’s a catastrophic idea.
I want to let him split me open and crawl inside me and never leave.
He dips his head, biting my collarbone in a way that leaves no ambiguity about whose side of the animal kingdom he’s drawing from. I hiss—actually hiss—and twist a fist in his hair. He laughs into my skin, full body shaking with it, equal parts arrogance and delight.
“Kitten’s got claws,” he grins, looking up at me, hair wild, eyes feral.
“You have no fucking idea,” I retort, reaching down between us, fingers finding the button of his jeans. He sucks in a sharp breath as my knuckles brush against his lower abdomen. And I pop the button, slide the zipper down, and slip my hand inside.
“Tabitha,” he groans as I wrap my hand around his thick length.
He’s hot and hard and—
The sound of a car in the driveway makes us both freeze.
“Fuck,” we say in unison.
“She’s back,” I whisper, panic flooding through me.
“Shit. OK,” Jasper says, already zipping his jeans and looking around frantically. “I need to get back into the laundry room.”
“You don’t have time.” I look around frantically and spot the open window. “Out there.” I point and shove him toward it. “You’re gonna have to climb down.”
Jasper hesitates for a split second, his eyes wide with that mix of panic and mischief I’m starting to recognize as his default crisis mode. “Climb down? From the second floor? Tabitha, I’m a fox, not a squirrel.”
“Then climb down as a human if you have to,” I hiss, giving him another shove toward the window as the car door slams closed outside. “Just go! And don’t you dare get caught.”
He flashes me a wicked grin, then drops his jeans, standing there in all his still-aroused glory. Holy shit, that’s a pretty cock. I can’t help but stare, wide-eyed, mouth open.
“Eyes up here. You’ll get it soon enough, kitty,” he teases, tossing his jeans at me.
“Hide those for me, will you?” I blink up at him and he grins.
“This isn’t over, kitty. Not by a long shot.
” Before I can snap back, he shifts mid-movement, his body blurring into that scruffy red fox form, and leaps out the window.
I stand there for a second, frozen, holding his jeans in my hands and staring at the open window where a naked-turned-fox man just jumped out.
My life has become absolutely insane.
“Whiskers?” Bea’s voice calls from downstairs. “Are you home, sweetie? I’m back from the library!”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
I spring into action, shoving Jasper’s jeans into the cabinet under the sink, behind the spare toilet paper and cleaning supplies. Then I look around the bathroom with fresh eyes—what evidence did we leave?
The towel is on the floor. I hang it back up.
The lotion bottle is by the sink. I put it back in its spot.
The counter has water droplets everywhere from where I was sitting. I grab a hand towel and wipe it down quickly.
The mirror is still fogged. I wipe that too.
I’m just shoving the hand towel back on its rack when Bea’s footsteps start up the stairs.
“Whiskers? Are you up here?”
I shift in a panic, bones compressing, fur sprouting, and I land on all fours emerging from the bathroom just as Bea steps on the landing.
“There you are!” She smiles, bending down to scoop me up. “Were you taking a nap on the bathroom rug? That’s unusual for you.”
I meow innocently, trying not to think about what I was actually doing on the bathroom counter mere moments ago.
“You’ll never believe what I found at the library,” she says, scooping me up and carrying me downstairs. Her voice has that excited lilt she gets. “They had an entire section on exotic pet care! I checked out three books about foxes.”
Oh god.
She sets me on the kitchen counter and I see them—a stack of library books with titles like “Living with Foxes,” “Urban Fox Behavior,” and “So You’ve Adopted a Wild Animal: A Guide.”
“Look at this one,” Bea says, opening the top book and showing me a page with diagrams. “It says foxes are incredibly intelligent but can be destructive when they’re stressed or bored. That must be what happened this morning with poor Sox.”
Poor Sox. Poor Sox?! That bastard is not suffering by a long shot!
“And listen to this,” she continues, running her finger down the page.
“‘Foxes are naturally curious and will explore every inch of their environment. They may mark territory, dig, and collect objects that interest them.’” She looks toward the laundry room thoughtfully.
“Maybe I should give him some toys. Something to keep him occupied.”
I meow, trying to convey that what Sox really needs is to be kicked out, but Bea just scratches behind my ears.