Then he had entertained, and tortured, himself by sitting and watching her lazily undress. Sweet God, the woman had a way of sliding out of her clothes that made a man’s head spin. Then, in a red robe she hadn’t bothered to belt, she’d filled the old-fashioned tub with frothy bubbles that smelled of jasmine.

She’d lit candles. Such a … female thing to do. She ran the water too hot, and turned music on seductively low. As she shrugged out of the robe, she daydreamed. He resisted sliding into her mind to see what put that faraway look in her eyes, that faint smile on her lips.

Her body delighted him. It was so slender, so smooth, with a pearly sheen to the skin and slim, subtle curves. Delicate bones, tiny feet, and breasts tipped a fragile blush pink.

He wanted to taste there, to run his tongue from white to pink to white.

When she’d leaned over to turn off the taps, it had taken an enormous act of will to prevent himself from nipping at that firm, naked bottom.

It both irritated and charmed him that she seemed to have no vanity, no self-awareness. She piled her hair on top of her head in a gloriously messy mass, and didn’t so much as glance at herself in the mirror.

Instead she talked to him, chattering nonsense, then hissed out a breath as she stepped into the tub. Steam billowed as she gingerly lowered herself, until the bubbles played prettily over her breasts.

Until he longed to re-form and slip into the tub with her as a man.

She only laughed when he walked forward to sniff at her. Only ran a hand over his head absently while she picked up a book with the other.

Home Maintenance for the Confused and Inept.

It made him chuckle, the sound coming out as a soft woof. She gave his ears a quick scratch, then reached for her wine.

“It says here,” she began, “that I should always have a few basic tools on hand. I think I saw all of these in the utility room, but I’d better make a list and compare. The next time the power goes out, or I blow a fuse—or is it a breaker?—I’m handling it myself. I won’t be rescued by anyone, especially Liam Donovan.”

She gasped, then chuckled, when the wolf dipped his tongue into her glass and drank. “Hey, hey! This is a very fine sauvignon blanc, and not for you, pal.” She lifted the glass out of reach. “It explains how to do simple rewiring,” she continued. “Not that I’m planning on doing any, but it doesn’t look terribly complicated. I’m very good at following directions.”