Jaxson (River Pack Wolves 1)(9)

“No!” he protested. Then the frown deepened as he dropped his gaze. “Well, yes, actually.” He held out his hand—it was her phone! “You’d probably like this back.”

She slowly leaned forward in her chair to pluck the phone from his outstretched hand. Then she scooted the chair back a little, afraid he might change his mind and take it back.

He grimaced. “Look, I’m sorry about that—”

“Why did you take it?” She already had it open, but it looked the same as before. Two swipes verified what she suspected: he had deleted the video.

“I just wanted to make sure—”

“You could have asked.”

“Excuse me?”

“You could have asked.” She looked up at him, defiant. “I would have deleted the video in front of you. There was no need to take the phone.”

His shoulders dropped. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

That mollified her. Slightly. Plus he had changed into slim-fitting dress pants and a white collared shirt that both seemed tailored to perfectly fit his sculpted muscles. He was ridiculously good-looking in tattered jeans—in these sexy, high-end clothes, she was having a hard time keeping her eyes from traveling the length of his body.

He dipped his chin and captured her with those gorgeous sky-blue eyes. “The truth is, I wanted to… well, I wanted to know more about you.” He seemed to be asking her forgiveness with this, but why would a gorgeous guy like him, obviously much better off than she was and a shifter besides, want to know more about her? She was nobody.

She scooted her chair toward him, but only so she could tap her computer screen awake again. It was about to time her out. When she looked up, he had moved closer to peer at her screen. Her face flushed, but he already knew she was out of a job. The scent of him—fresh pines and heated earth—washed over her again, reminding her of that blazing kiss in the alleyway.

Before she could scoot back again, out of the zone of his overwhelming hotness, he reached out to her, like he wanted to shake hands. “Can we start over? My name’s Jaxson River. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

His gaze held hers, and his formal tone compelled a small smile onto her face. “Olivia Lilyfield, unemployed reporter. Nice to meet you.” She slipped her hand into his… and almost pulled back. There was something about his touch that instantly brought her entire body to life—almost like tiny pleasure-shocks racing down to her toes, up through her core, and straight to her heart. Her breath caught. And he wasn’t letting go of her hand—instead he covered it with his other one and dropped to one knee in front of her.

His eyes were wide. “I have to ask you something.” His voice was a little breathless, and in spite of his words, he seemed to be holding back.

“What?” The sensation of him holding her hand so gently between his was heating every part of her—like he was a live wire, and just touching him was igniting small brush fires inside her.

He dropped his voice low and leaned even closer. “Are you a shifter? You already know my secret. Trust me that you’re safe in telling me yours.”

She shook her head in tiny motions. “No.”

“Are you certain?” he pressed. “Maybe you’re only half. Maybe you haven’t expressed yet, but your father or mother was a shifter—”

She pulled her hand from his and shrunk back in the chair. “My parents are dead.”

“Oh.” He looked pained. “I’m sorry, Olivia, I… I didn’t realize.”

“It happened a long time ago,” she said stiffly. And her mother was definitely not your average mom—she was a witch. Olivia knew all too well that she had inherited some of her mother’s command of the supernatural. But there was no way she was telling this shifter any of that… no matter how hot he was or how sexy his voice. She kept her distance from the supernatural world as much as possible, but she still understood the basics—including the legendary blood feuds between witches and wolves. Or really witches and any kind of shifter. She didn’t know if her mother ever partook of the dark arts she’d heard of, but she knew for sure that shifters and witches were natural enemies. And the soft look on this shifter’s face—his name was Jaxson, she reminded herself—would evaporate in a second if he knew what she was.

Even if she was only half witch.

His gaze was roaming her face. “I’m sorry for probing.” His voice was soft, apologetic. “My inner wolf and I were having a disagreement.” He gave a small smile, and she was sure a part of her was melting inside. Why did he have to be so sexy?