Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven 1)

But of course she glanced in.

He had put his saddlebags down on the floor on the far side of the bed, and he was bending over them, getting something out that he tossed behind himself to the comforter. As he straightened and faced the far wall, he unzipped his windbreaker and removed it—and then he peeled off his T-shirt, taking it up and over his head.

His back was … spectacular.

He was so muscular, but also lean, as if he were an athlete: From his bulking shoulders to the strong line of his spine, muscles fanned out in a series of peaks and valleys that tapered to a tight waist. And below that? Well, those jeans were hanging low, but not because his butt wasn’t—

Daniel glanced over his shoulder.

As she flushed and looked away, he said, “Did you need something?”

“Sorry, I’m just taking a shower,” she said.

A freezing cold one.

“Okay.”

Shutting herself in the bathroom, Lydia leaned back against the door. All she could see on the insides of her lids was a bumper sticker she’d noticed on a car once: “Save Water, Shower w/a Friend.”

“Friends,” she reminded herself. And like she could handle anything else given all the damn drama?

The shower filled an alcove and was the only new thing in the house—as if an old Victorian claw-foot’er had bit the farm and required replacing. The glass enclosure with its tub looked great when it was clean, but keeping the soap scum at bay was a bitch. She’d finally resorted to a squeegee and a spray bottle of OxiClean down on the tile floor—

Wow, she was actually trying to distract herself with lame conversation.

In contrast to the cold wash her libido needed, she made sure the water was hot before she stepped in—and oh, God, it felt wonderful. Slumping under the spray, she hung her head and just let the warmth rush over her. When she started to worry about how much was in the hot water tank down in the cellar—you know, in case Daniel wanted one of these miracles—she got to the shampooing and a stiff-brushed wash, as her grandfather had called it. By the time she stepped out onto the bath mat, she was partially revived. No doubt it wouldn’t last, but she’d take the improvement for as long as it did.

Back in her robe, she wrapped her hair up in a towel, brushed her teeth, and told herself that she had shaved her legs because it was just time to.

And not because she was thinking about being naked with anybody—

Bullcrap she wasn’t thinking that.

Using a hand towel, she cleared the condensation off the mirror over the sink. Her face was drawn and the bags under her eyes were so pronounced, it was like she had hay fever. Not exactly sexy personified, and she had a thought that she needed to step off from this fantasy stuff.

Besides, even if things had been otherwise normal in her life, there were rules: Her grandfather’s traditions were a heavy weight on her, as they always had been. And the two times she’d broken them, she couldn’t say that the night of so-called passion had been worth the guilt afterward.

Although with Daniel? She had a feeling it would be a more than fair exchange …

Staring at her reflection, it was as if there were a mist between her and what she was seeing. Had she changed somehow, as a result of what she’d witnessed today? Of what she’d done?

It was like walking into her kitchen, she supposed, and finding that everything seemed off even though on the surface nothing was different.

With hands that shook, she reached up behind her neck and found the clasp to her gold chain. Freeing the claw hook, she removed the medallion her grandfather had given her and put it in the basket that held her hairbrush, her tweezers, her scissors, and her nail files.

She couldn’t wear that right now. Not with what she was thinking about Daniel.

But as soon as morning came, she was going to put it back on.

Funny how you followed the rules you were raised with, even when you were grown. It was as if they were part of the bones that took you to your adult height.

As she went to unlatch the door, her heart sped up, and the creak of the hinges made her skin prickle—but not in fear. In anticipation.

In spite of the “friends” label.

And everything else.

Taking a deep breath, she opened things fully and paused—and as she stood there on the threshold, she realized that her convictions to stay away from the man hadn’t lasted any time at all. Poof! Gone.

She should have known when she took the pendant off.

Lydia stepped out into the hall.

As her eyes returned to the guest room’s doorway, she prepared an explanation, a justification, a reason that felt concrete and not irresponsible, for the fact that she wanted him. And not in the future. Not in a fantasy. But now.