" Her face went blank as she realized what she’d interrupted. “I’ll, uh, go upstairs and watch a show,” she said, not sounding like herself at all.
I scooted out from under Adam. “And Jesse saves the day,” I said lightly. “Thank you, that was getting out of hand.”
She paused, looking—surprised.
I wondered uncharitably how many times she’d walked in on her mother in similar situations and what her mother’s response had been. I never had liked Jesse’s mother and was happy to believe all sorts of evil about her. I let anger at the games her mother might have played surround me. When you’ve lived with werewolves, you learn tricks to hide what you’re feeling from them—anger, for instance, covers up panic pretty well—and, out from under Adam’s sensuous hands, I was panicking plenty.
Adam snorted. “That’s one way to put it.” To my relief, he’d stayed where we’d been, sinking facedown onto the mat.
“Even with my willpower, his lure was too great,” I said melodramatically, complete with wrist to forehead. If I made a joke of it, he’d never realize how truthful I was being.
A slow smile spread across her face and she quit looking like she was ready to bolt back into the house. “Dad’s kind of a stud, all right.”
“Jesse,” warned Adam, his voice muffled only a little by the mat. She giggled.
“I have to agree,” I said in overly serious tones. “Maybe as high as a seven or eight, even.”
“Mercedes,” Adam thundered, surging to his feet.
I winked at Jesse, held my gi top over my left shoulder with one finger, and strolled casually out the back door of the garage. I didn’t mean to, but when I turned to shut the door, I looked back and saw Adam’s face. His expression gave me cold chills.
He wasn’t angry or hurt. He looked thoughtful, as if someone had just given him the answer to a question that had been bothering him. He knew. "

― Patricia Briggs , Blood Bound (Mercy Thompson, #2)