Now, I was well aware that certain sports required certain modes of dress for protection, but I failed to see how wearing a sleeveless blouse on the course qualified as a safety hazard. God forbid the sight of my bare shoulders should send male golfers into a tizzy, knocking balls everywhere.

(Derek) “No casting? No practicing?” He shook his head. “Don’t tell Simon that.”
“Don’t tell Simon what?” said a voice behind us.
We turned to see Simon step out of the doorway.
“That Tori doesn’t need to use incantations to cast,” Derek said.
“Seriously?” He swore. “You’re right. Don’t tell me.” He picked his way across the roof. “Better yet, don’t tell her that I need incantations and weeks of practice, and I still suck.”

Hunting humans for sport? Eating them?” the bitterness in his voice cut through me. “Yeah, I caught that part.”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with you?
He lifted his eyes, gaze shuttered. “No?”
“Not unless being a werewolf transforms you into a wolf AND a redneck moron.

So, is it too young for you?”

He leaned over, lips coming to mine, arms pulling me into a kiss, soft at first, tentative, then … wow. The guy could kiss. I finally had to pull back to catch my breath.

“Good answer?” he said.

“Yep. You like them young.”

He flushed. “That was not the message.”

“Are you sure? Because it certainly seems–“

He cut me off with another oxygen-depriving kiss.

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