Page 62 of Unhinged Magic
“Guys, you look stunning!” I gushed as they came closer, a knowing glance passing between Tyler and me. “Morgan, your dress is divine.”
A laugh rushed from her, color faintly warming her cheeks. This place was new to her, having only had her magic come to her fully a day ago. I had a hunch things were going on behind the scenes with her and Tyler, but when he called me to help choose a dress and shoes for her to wear tonight, it was clear just how much he cared for her. I had never known him to do anything like that, even with his late girlfriend, Ava.
Wesley stepped forward from beside me, brushing a kiss on the side of Morgan’s cheek. “Skye’s right. Stunning dress, Morgan.”
She smoothed over the front. “Thanks Wesley, not looking too bad yourself,” she replied, her voice a little shaky. It must be huge for her to attend a dance like this. Not long ago our 'kinds' didn’t exist in her mind. Tonight, she was mixing with them.
Wesley’s arm tightened slightly on mine, his attention turning to Tyler. “Skye’s my plus one for the evening. She didn’t want to come alone.”
Tension simmered between the two of them, unspoken words lingering in tense shoulders and tight jaws. I didn’t know if Tyler would buy the lie, the whole brothers before lovers thing making me suddenly feel like a fraud. When we figured all this out, we could tell him everything. But until then, we needed to wait.
Tyler remained silent, his gaze moving between the two of us before finally nodding. “Make sure she gets home safe tonight.”
I felt Wesley straighten beside me. “Of course.”
He rubbed his thumb over the bare skin on the underside of my forearm, so subtle it went unnoticed by anyone else. The tiny motion, his assurance we were in this together.
I hid my breath of relief, catching Wesley’s eye as the conversation moved to Colton, who hastily downed the contents in his champagne flute.
I couldn’t place the uneasy feeling nagging at me. Something about Wesley felt different tonight. He seemed tense, and understandably so having to play it cool around Tyler, but it felt bigger than that. From the moment he had picked me up in a car that looked better suited to a VIP, care of the wolf pack, something had been off. He appeared distracted, his stiff demeanor and tight words not his usual self.
I lifted my flute to my lips, taking a drink. Bubbles popped over my tongue as I swallowed. A few sips later, I felt the warm buzz of the liquor, a giant flare making itself known.
I surveyed the room again finding a familiar face. Wolf guy, from the night at Jinxed. He lifted his drink in acknowledgement.
Wesley’s hand immediately fell to the small of my back. “Let’s dance,” he said tightly.
I stole a glance in his direction, dropping to where he gripped the flute glass so tight I imagined it was near breaking point.
His hair was midnight chaos. Eyes a darkened forest trail I wanted to follow. Get lost in.
“That isnota good idea,” I challenged. The last thing we needed was to be pressed together dancing. Here, in front of my brother.
Wesley lifted his glass to his lips, taking a drink. His attention was still fixed hard on wolf guy.
“I want to dance with you, Skip.” He aimed his gaze back to me, claiming my attention fully. “I’ve thought about what it would be like, how you would feel in my arms, many times.” With his free hand, he ran his fingers down the underside of my forearm again, the forest trail beckoning me. His voiceweathered my self-restraint like sandpaper, each word another layer until I softened.
The lure, the bait. His trap.
Who was I kidding? I wanted to be caught. Captured in his embrace. I emptied my glass, sitting it on the mantle next to me, side-eyeing him. “We need to be careful,” I warned, turning to him.
He nodded, the forest trail brightening. “We do.” He discarded his own drink, looking at me once more.
When I didn’t move, the featherlight touch of his hand on my elbow edged me forward, sliding between couples dancing until the antique chandelier in the center of the ballroom hung above us. Couples swayed shoulder to shoulder either side of us, a mixture of wealth, dopamine, and sex all rolled into a finely tuned seductress. I was powerless in her embrace.
Wesley pulled us closer until the fabric of his suit jacket brushed my breasts, my nipples pitching into tight peaks at the sensation of having not worn a bra.
A low rumble sounded from his chest. His hand clutched my waist.
“This is torture,” he whispered as we swayed to the music, his irises confessing sins he held within.
His fingers warmed the palm of my hand. I wanted to melt into his chest completely. Lean my head on his shoulder.
He was right, thiswastorture. I wanted to touch him, to kiss him.
Between the bodies of dancing couples, anything from the shoulders down was lost to curious eyes. His palm slid over my hip bone, explored the curve of my ass ever so discretely. When it slipped between us, I froze, his knuckles lingering on my tattoo for a fraction of a moment before heading toward my hip bone.
I wasn’t expecting the graze of his knuckles to affect me the way they did.
