Page 83 of De-Witched

God, she could barely breathe. She moved in so the warmth around her encompassed him. Tipping back her head, she carefully set one hand on his chest. It rose unsteadily under her fingers.

“Once,” she repeated, ignoring the few people that passed them. They were ghosts to her. “You. Me. One night.”

Something sparked under her hand, like his skin had put out a small charge.

She pressed her advantage. “Forget everyone else, your side, my side. What I am, who you are.” A muscle flexed in his jaw and she curled her fingers into his shirt. “The politics, the truth, the lies. Forget everything but you. And me. And one night.”

“Leah...” His voice was a rumble of darkness. Of warning.

She didn’t heed it. “I know you’re all about responsibility. Doing what you think is right. But what if we played pretend? What if, for one night, you were just Gabe. And I was just Leah?”

19

He’d portalled them to his apartment. And she’d missed it.

Leah’s whole focus had been Gabriel as he’d made the decision in the space of two thudding heartbeats. His kiss was consuming, hands grasping her hips as he brought her up on her toes. Big hands. Strong, surprisingly capable hands.

When he’d walked her backward, she’d gone willingly, barely registering the strange juddering around her until her back hit the wall and it wasn’t cold concrete.

When she opened her eyes, his expression was drawn, hints of pain within. Then she saw the last flickers of a portal closing behind him and realization hit her like a slap on the ass.

He didn’t say anything, only watched her carefully.

Questions crowded her throat. What did it mean that he’d used such obvious magic? Should she comment on it? Was it possible he’d show her more? Could she ask questions about what kind of magic he had? Did this mean he trusted her?

That last question answered itself. He’d portalled her, a human. He trusted her. Gabriel Goodnight trusted her.

She untangled the hand in his hair, traced his forehead. “It hurts you, doesn’t it?” The lines eased as she ran her fingers across them. He didn’t confirm but she knew she was right.

All those times he’d helped her out with magic, looked after her.

And she knew she didn’t need to ask anything else. Not now. All she needed was for him to kiss her again.

She threaded her hands through his hair, relishing the feel of the strands slipping through her fingers, and tugged.

She didn’t need to ask twice. He bent to capture her mouth in another deep, drugging kiss. His hands skimmed up her sides, making her shiver.

“Bed,” she mumbled, dragging her mouth free. “I want to feel you.”

His eyes, already hot, went molten.

But he shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

A hint of humor played around his face. “Not yet,” he amended.

“What are you—”

“You talk too much.”

“So, give me something to do with my mouth.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw and his hands tightened on her hips. “You will not rush me.”

“We only have one night,” she reminded him. “Let’s get to the good stuff.”

He took her hand, turned her palm upward and brushed his lips over the pulse point in her wrist before gently biting down. Lust surged into her belly.

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