Page 12 of A Warlock for Halloween

Scampering up, I realize I’m also in a loose and flowing peach nightgown. Running my hands up and down over it, my fingers slip along the cool and smooth fabric.

“Holy Hell, this is silk,” I mutter. I don’t even own a nightgown, let alone a silk one.

Something is majorly wrong here.

The urge to lie back down and pull the covers over my head is strong. But the hope that this is all a dream is pure foolishness. I’m awake. The pleasant ache between my thighs tells me that.

Did we even use a condom?!

“Fuck!”

How dumb could I have been? I can’t blame it on the wine because I had only a single glass.

No, this is all on me and getting caught up in the wonder and romance of the moment. He took me to a fancy French restaurant in a horse-drawn carriage, who wouldn’t have been caught up in that?! Except now it looks like I’ve been kidnapped because I distinctly remember falling asleep in my bed with Ambrose’s arms wrapped around me.

As if my thoughts summoned him, one of the large double doors opens and Ambrose strides into the room, fully dressed all in black again and carrying a tray.

His silver eyes immediately latch onto me and soften. “Good morning, my love,” he says in a husky voice that makes my lady parts clench up even though they should know better.

It’s not just my vagina that should know better, my heart should as well. Yet my chest feels warm and happy as the words ‘my love’ repeat in my head.

Giving myself a brisk mental shake, I try to get my emotions and libido under control. I’m in a strange house with an even stranger man. I need to stay calm and figure a way out of here.

I can only hope that Ambrose is a sweet sort of stalker, not the crazy chop them up slasher kind.

He slips off his shoes, kicks them to the side of the still opened door, and then pads on bare feet over to the bed, placing the tray in my lap and sliding into bed beside me.

My stunned eyes drop to the tray and see a mound of red and ripe strawberries and a dish of whipped cream. Ambrose reaches out, plucking a strawberry from the top of the mound and then dipping it in the cream. The strawberry lifts up to me, aiming right toward my mouth.

I dart my gaze to him and see him watching me intently. The berry bumps into my lips, the cream smearing coolly over them. Reflexively my tongue slides out to lap at the cream, his eyes glow as he follows its path and then his mouth is there, capturing my tongue with gentle laps of his.

The instinct to freeze is strong. But stronger is the need to further open my lips and let him in. As his mouth covers mine, desire surges from within and I can feel my inner thighs becoming slick with my own cream.

His arms wind around me, and I find myself pinned under him as his mouth hungerly explores mine. Where the tray and strawberries disappeared to, I don’t have a clue, and at this moment I don’t care.

All I care about is the feel of Ambrose’s hard and lean body covering mine. Of his hands tangling in my hair as his lips and tongue dominate me.

Arching upwards, I press my breasts to his chest, crying out when one of his large palms covers one and squeezes.

What is it about this man that makes me completely lose control? Everything but him seems to fall aside when I’m in his arms. Only him and the desire and love I feel for him…

Wait? Love?

No!

Frantically, I rip my lips from him and shove at his chest.

I don’t believe in magic, but if I did, I’d swear some sort of love spell has been cast over me.

“Ambrose, stop!”

He pulls back, his lips soft and shiny from our kisses and his eyes a molten silver that does odd things to me. I should demand he take out those silly contacts.

Actually there are a lot of things that I need answers to, but I worry I’m not in the position to make any demands. I need to tread carefully and stop getting caught up in whatever is making me want to surrender to the bliss that I find in his embrace.

“Where are we?”

He sits back against the headboard and tugs at me to do the same. I hold myself stiffly, waiting for him to answer.

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