She bent to retrieve the comb, giving him a full-on view of the ample curves of her sweet ass, the sight he again felt in his cock. Then she went back to her hair.

He finished pulling on his boots and moved from the milk cartons where he’d been dressing.

He approached her from behind, got close enough to touch, but reared his torso back when she snatched up a can of hairspray, aimed, and let loose.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

She stopped spraying, her eyes went to his in the mirror, and she muttered, “Sorry.”

“Everything about you smells good, pussycat. But that shit? No,” he told her as she tossed the can back into the sink with a clatter and he moved in, putting his hands to her hips.

“I need hold,” she shared, lifting her fingers to fluff and arrange her hair, her eyes back to herself in the mirror.

His eyes dropped to her tits where her tee was straining, his dick deciding it was time to yank down her jeans and panties and bend her over the sink. Fortunately, because of what Delilah gave him earlier, his mind had control over his dick again and he didn’t do that while her father and his boys were right then parking their bikes in front of the restaurant.

“I got a lot of hair,” she went on. “I don’t spend thirty minutes getting it to look this good only for it to fall and look like garbage.”

“I think your dad probably doesn’t give a shit what your hair looks like,” he pointed out, and her eyes flew to his in the mirror.

“I’m not doing this for my dad,” she returned. “I have a long, tall drink of serious hot-guy werewolf vampire. I can’t take his side and not be the best I can be.”

Abel froze, staring at her in the mirror.

Take his side and be the best I can be.

“Abel, I need to spritz on more perfume,” she told him.

He didn’t move.

Take his side and be the best I can be.

“I don’t want you to get a blast of it, honey,” she stated.

He slid his hands to cross his arms over her belly, yanking her into his frame, bending his head and using his chin to shift her hair out of the way so he could bury his face in her neck.

There she didn’t smell like hairspray.

There she smelled like Delilah, fresh and sweet and tangy.

“They’re already inside, Lilah. You need to get the lead out,” he said softly there, kissed her, and let her go.

“Okay, baby,” she muttered before she spritzed, quickly turned, squatted, dug through bags, and put on jewelry. Then she sat on her ass and pulled on her socks and boots.

He moved close to her and offered a hand.