Page 22 of If The Shoe Fits

His eyes are still glowing, and that snickerdoodle scent of his—that magnificent, mouthwatering, cinnamon, sugar cookie smell is driving me bananas.

Would it be so bad to take advantage of whatever this is and cure myself of the very long dry spell I’ve been stuck in?

Yes, Dora, you ho! It would be very bad!

Ugh. My inner voice can be such a drag sometimes.

“Listen, we have to talk about this, and I can’t string together two thoughts with you touching and kissing me,” I snap, and he just smiles wider.

Of course he does. I just about told him how much he affects me.

FML.

No man, or Wolf, should be that damn handsome. It’s criminal.

“Please, Principal—” I pause when he growls and I correct myself, “I meanWulfy. Please Wulfy. I need you to listen.”

If I admitted how much I’ve been wanting to call him by his first name or some other term of endearment, I was never going to fix this mess.

“Okay, my sweet Dora, I’ll listen if you will,” he replies and winks.

“Oh, um, okay,” I say, and lick my lips.

He narrows his eyes, following the move with a rapt expression that makes me want to climb him like a tree.

“The truth is I’ve been waiting months for the opportunity to touch and kiss you, my sexy little Witch. But if you need me to wait a few more minutes until we consummate our mating, I can do that. And I will listen to what you have to say, but only if you sit on my lap while you say it,” he says.

Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

chapter nine

Five minutes later, I am sitting perched on my boss’s,er, Wulfy’s lap and it is wreaking havoc with my system.

Seriously.

I am like two breaths away from a full panic attack. Either that or I’m going to turn around and ride this Big Bad Wolf bareback cowgirl style.

“I second that,” he growls, his hands contracting on my hips.

Oops. Dang it.

I forgot he can read my mind.

“Look, you called me down here because your daughter accused me of something. Do you recall what that is?” I ask.

“Cyndi?” he asks, frowning.

I bite my lip.

If he shows signs of not remembering, I will have to call in the nurse.

Maybe my little magic zap did some damage to his frontal lobe or something.

“Dora, I am not suffering from anything other than blue balls, I assure you. Now, Cyndi did come to me with a complaint, but she must be mistaken.”

“What did she say?” I ask, unable to keep the curiosity from my voice.

“She said you were picking on her. That you made fun of her not having a mother. That you’ve been picking on her, holding her to ridiculous standards,” he replies, his tone heavy with disbelief.

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