“Just curious. You said you’ve never met a shark shifter, well, I’ve never met a witch.”
She laughed at the comparison. “Something tells me being a shark is a lot more exciting than being a witch. At least when it comes to me. Pretty much all I do is file papers and take dictation. No kicking bad guy ass for moi.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You did a damn good job swinging your fist at me earlier. Don’t think you’d have any problem holding your own if you had to.”
She groaned. “Please tell me I apologized for that.”
“Yeah, you did. And I’m only teasin’.” He tossed their steaks onto the plate and shut off the grill’s gas. “Feast time.”
Right on cue, her stomach rumbled in approval. They returned to the kitchen and spent the next twenty minutes eating the scrumptious dinner. Hungry as she was, she probably would have been happy scarfing down shoe leather, but no way would it have come close to providing the same fiesta for her taste buds as Max’s cooking. It was a tad embarrassing, the amount of relish she savored her food with, but fortunately Max didn’t appear to mind. If anything, he seemed fascinated. Even as she sank her teeth into the last bite of steak with a lusty groan, his focus remained glued to her mouth. Swallowing, he dropped his napkin into his lap.
She finished chewing before giving him a sheepish glance. “I swear I’m not usually like this. I mean, I’m not going to lie, I love food. But this?” She waved her fork, indicating her empty plate. “Better than an orgasm any day.” The second the words escaped, she wished she could reel them back in. Good grief, would her inner slut never shut up?
Max stilled. His attention drifted to her lips again, his dilated pupils making his eyes look dark and exceedingly sexy. “Then I’d say you haven’t been sharing a bed with the right man. One who’s gonna make damn sure he rocks your Kasbah more than that T-bone.”
The air crackled between them, loaded with sexual tension so thick it could be cut with one of their steak knives. She wasn’t certain how long they stared at each other before Max broke eye contact. He dropped his silverware onto his plate and cleared his throat. “Well, these dishes aren’t going to wash themselves.”
He stood and she gaped at him mutely. How the hell could he casually go from rocking Kasbahs to dirty plates? A possibility occurred to her. One that left her feeling even more like a pathetic moron. Maybe she was the only one who’d truly been affected by their conversation. Max was only being a nice, generous host, and here she was, misreading things and thinking he was sexually attracted to her.
She’d never been the type of woman to instill lustful cravings in a man. And yummy, too-gorgeous-for-words Max? He was so far out of her league it was ridiculous.
Sighing, she started to gather the plates.
“I’ll take care of everything. Why don’t you go rest for a while? Boone will take a chunk out of my hide if you have a relapse or something.”
“But I want to—” She broke off, a yawn sneaking out. Max’s eyebrows lifted, and she exhaled in weary defeat. “Fine, I’ll rest. But I’m not going to like it.”
His mouth twitched. “You can take the bed.”
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“On the floor.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m not going to—”
“Willa.” An unmistakable warning underscored his tone. “Don’t make me toss you over my shoulder and throw you on that bed.”
She shivered. It probably wasn’t normal to be turned on by his threat. Definitely pathetic. Deliberately adopting a mulish slant to her chin, she stalked down the hallway. Setting her glasses on the nightstand, she crawled on the bed, intending to do nothing more than shut her eyes for a bit. Even before her head fully hit the pillow, a snore floated past her lips.
Max stared dumbly at the growing mountain of suds in the sink. He gripped the edge of the basin, willing away the persistent throbbing in his cock. Jesus. He should be awarded with a damn sainthood for not climbing on the bed with Willa and licking every inch of her like she was his dessert.
The image fostered by that provocative thought tormented his already stiff-as-a-board erection. He slumped his shoulders and groaned, pouring every ounce of his bottled frustration into the gesture. The damnable part of it all was he suspected Willa wanted him just as bad. But he also knew she was in a vulnerable position. She’d nearly lost her life today, and that was bound to mess with a person’s head. If anything happened between them, he wanted to be absolutely certain it was for the right reason, and not because she looked at him as her savior and therefore deserved a thank-you fuck.
No matter how sizzling hot that fuck would be.
There was no question in his mind that a night spent indulging his wildest fantasies with Willa would be off the charts. He loved the hell out of sex. Loved all of the tactile sensations. Skin gliding on skin. The contrast between the softness of a woman’s breasts and the firmer, pebbled tips of her nipples. He loved the texture of both beneath his fingers, against his tongue. But most of all, he adored savoring the wet silkiness of a woman’s pussy as he went down on her. He could easily spend hours doing that for Willa, if she let him.
“Shit.” He gritted the word through his teeth. These kinds of thoughts were doing nothing to cool him down, damn it. Plunging his hands into the soapy water, he ruthlessly scrubbed the plates and utensils until they gleamed before setting them on the rack to drip dry. That chore completed, he walked down the hall toward his office. The bedroom was dark and the faint sound of light snores carried to his ears, making him grin. For someone who’d carried on like a cranky five-year-old refusing to go to sleep, she sure as hell fell into snooze land fast.
He sat at his desk and powered on his computer. He’d put off logging in some reports earlier in the week. Might as well get the damn things done with. But halfway through pulling up the file folder, his mind became distracted by thoughts of Willa. Not exactly any surprise there. Only this time, he couldn’t shake the question of why the leviathan had snatched her. Granted, maybe the beast had just been in it for sport, or an easy kill.
But that was the thing. He’d run into the leviathan miles away from the creatures’ preferred territory. Something had lured the beast close to shore.
Willa?
The possibility stirred an uneasy brew in his gut. Why would the leviathan have wanted her?
His finger stopped hovering over the mouse, and he clicked off his current program and opened the file labeled “unknown attacks” instead. These were the unsolved cases, where the perpetrator of the crime was yet to be determined or brought to trial. He spent a good forty-five minutes scanning the entries, looking for evidence that might hint at a leviathan being responsible for the acts. A few cold cases presented possible leads, but each of those were at least two decades old.
Sinking back in his chair, he rubbed his brow. Boone was right about one thing. He despised unfilled blanks. More and more, it looked like he’d never know why the leviathan had chosen Willa for its victim. Not unless he tracked the son of a bitch down and threatened to beat it within an inch of its life.
Sounded like an excellent plan.
One that’d have to wait for another day. Gusting a heavy breath, he powered off the computer and stood, stretching. A series of pops cracked in his tensed joints. Grimacing, he abandoned the office and strode into the bedroom. A beam of milky moonlight pooled along the bed, illuminating the gentle curve of Willa’s shoulder and the slope of her breasts. The shirt had bunched tight beneath her, showcasing her hard little nipples. White-hot desire kicked him square in the groin.