Page 11 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“Yes, and it’s wildly amusing,” he admitted, settling his hands on her hips.

“Well, knock it off. I’m not an uptight virgin.”

His lips compressed, and she was shocked to see dimples etched in his cheeks. After a yearlong study of his features, she thought she knew every square inch of his face. How the hell had she missed those delightful dips?

“When did you develop dimples?” she demanded, disregarding both the fact he was laughing at herandthat he’d labeled her a mouse. He wasn’t the only one to ever do either, but his teasing wasn’t malicious.

“What?”He didn’t bother to hide his humor-filled snort.

“Have you always had them?”

“Always.” His gaze grew tender as he stroked the skin along her jawline with his thumb. “Maybe you’ve simply never seen me with my guard down.”

He was right.

“Why? Why is it you’re never relaxed enough to laugh or smile?”

“I have. With you,” he replied in a patient, wait-for-it tone.

“But…” Thinking back, she recalled that she avoided looking at him whenever she’d believed she’d made a spectacle of herself. Of course she’d missed seeing him amused! She’d been afraid of his mockery.

Cradling the nape of her neck, he drew her in for a quick buss on the lips. “There it is.”

Heat surged into her face.

“Never be embarrassed for being who you are, Elara. You’re beautiful.”

She froze.

He’d just lied to her.

Baldfaced.

Looking her right in the eye.

Shoving his arms away, she scrambled off him.

“Elara?”

Halfway to the door, she turned back, lifted her chin, and glared. “You’re a dick.”

“What just happened?” he asked as if he were walking through a wildflower field planted atop landmines.

“You lied!”

Losing his neutral expression, he stared in apparent shock.“What?”

“I’m plain, not beautiful. And you can take your stupid games elsewhere, Tripp Nightshade! I won’t be made fun of.”

She ran.

“Escape! Escape! Escape!”drummed through her mind, drowning out everything but her panicked need to flee.

Left sitting next to a box of super-sized dildos, Tripp was stupified.

“Well, don’tyoufeel like an asshole?” a female asked him.

He glanced up in time to see Elara’s sister lean away from the wall she’d been resting against. With one leg propped up and the other swinging back and forth alongside the trunk she perched upon, she blew a giant pink bubble. When it popped, she peeled it off her face, shoved it in her mouth, and masticated the gum.

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