Free Vice (Fireborn Wolves Book 1) by Genevieve Jack Page A

working the latex from her skin, peeling and scraping and thanking the good lord that Nickie had made her shave. How did the models do this regularly? Her feet and back were killing her, her jaw ached from being punched, and her skin was tender where she’d extricated it from the clingy latex. Removing it from her nipples was almost as bad as detaching it from her nether regions.
    But when most of the paint was off and she could finally settle into the warm water, it was Kyle she thought about. Her near miss was now a hit-and-run. Just picturing him in her mind caused the rosy tips of her breasts to tingle and her legs to cross against the delectable pressure of desire growing between them. How long had it been since she’d had sex? Three years? Four?
    A knock on the door chased her thoughts of Kyle away and brought her to her senses. “Yes?”
    “Can I talk to you?” Jason asked through the door.
    “Hold on.” She pulled a towel into the water to cover herself. “Come in.”
    When he entered the bathroom, her brother’s eyebrows shot up, his expression morphing from surprise to disgust. “What the hell happened to you?”
    She touched her cheek, wondering if she’d missed some of the zebra makeup, then remembered the reddening bruise that took up a large portion of the left side of her face. “Oh, this. A patron of Hunt Club took it upon himself to punish me for not responding to his advances. Tried to stick his finger where it didn’t belong and got testy when I went wolf on his wrist.”
    “Who? I’ll kill him.” Jason’s face did indeed reflect his pledge to do her assailant in. For how casually he treated his female companions, he’d always housed an undeniable protective instinct when it came to her.
    “Not worth the effort. I would have taken him out myself if given the chance. He just caught me off guard. And then one of the head honchos had him hauled away.”
    “The head honcho? Wait, do you mean, Kyle Kingsley?”
    “You know of him?”
    “Uh, yeah. Anyone who hasn’t spent the last five years under a pile of textbooks knows of him. He’s like a reclusive billionaire playboy. Every time the guy is seen in public it’s a social media event.”
    “Oh.” She sighed heavily.
    “What’s wrong, sis?”
    “That seals it then. Not only is he a misogynistic playboy, he’s completely unreachable.”
    Jason’s eyebrows pinched over his nose. “Am I missing something? A guy hit you in the face and Kyle Kingsley threw him out of his club. You’ll likely never see either again. Why, exactly, does his status as a billionaire playboy matter to you?”
    She took a deep breath and folded her arms over the towel on her chest. “Because my wolf seems to think he’s breeding material.”
    Jason blinked at her for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching. Eventually he gave in to a deep, erratic laugh. “You. You, the feminist, princess werewolf, have a bitch boner for Kyle Kingsley?”
    “You see the problem, then.”
    He leaned his elbows on his knees, his laughter dwindling to something more like concern. “So what? You were attracted to Kyle. Big deal. Maybe you just need sex. How long has it been, Laina?” It was a personal question for a brother to ask a sister, but he had good reason.
    “Years,” she answered. “But it’s never been like this before.”
    “Your wolf wants him.”
    “She presses against my skin like he’s carrying the moon in his pants.”
    Jason groaned. “Laina, what you’re describing isn’t just attraction. Kyle’s your vice .”
    “No!” she growled and bared her teeth in his direction.
    “Yes. This is exactly what it’s like.” Jason’s voice grew raspy with emotion. “Your wolf wants him.”
    The closest thing to a vice in the human world was an addiction; only in werewolf world, the experience was metaphysical. The inner wolf attached to something unexpectedly and could not be denied without risking madness or physical pain. A vice became