Page 25 of Untraced Magic
Scarlet turned up the music, and a grungy song filled the basement. Something about chasing a storm.
Morgan sauntered towards me as the music filled the room, her hips swaying as she inched closer with each step. When she was close enough, she dragged a finger up my knee, skimming my thigh as she moved to my side.
My eyes slid shut at the contact, sending stars to the void of my eyelids.
I felt her touch slide up my shirt until her hands caressed my shoulders behind me, and I willed myself to open my eyes as the pad of her finger carved a trail between my shoulder blades and down the other side of my torso. Then she stood before me again, staring back at me in that goddamn tight dress and those sinful-as-fuck red lips.
This woman was my kryptonite. My weakness.
The thunder caving my chest.
The lightening splitting my bones.
She was my fucking hurricane.
Her curves moved with a seductive roll, and my hands itched to claim her sides. To feel the curl of her hips in the palms of my hands. Instead, I sat motionless as she climbed onto my lap, a leg landing on either side of my thighs, sending her dress dangerously high up hers.
Her hips tortured mine, while silent words soaked with lust spilled between us.
Our own delicious storm.
I didn’t dare look down, knowing full well the view between her thighs would cut the last bindings of my self-restraint currently keeping my hands clawed to the armrest.
When the song ended, the room erupted with wolf whistles and howls.
Morgan leaned into my ear; her voice filled with liquored confidence. “Nowwe’ve got a problem.”
Then she was off me. And that lack of warmth made my body practically beg for her return.
The group continued to play the rest of the game, but I couldn’t ignore the heat-filled glances connecting with mine from across the room.
I adjusted my pants, aware I was worked up like a bull that hadn’t fucked in six months.
Had life not tested me enough?
But here I was, lost in a world where all there seemed to be washer. Grinding her way under my skin.
As the game ended, the mood in the room mellowed.
Reid walked over to the far wall and grabbed his guitar from its case. He perched on the end of the couch, started to strum some chords. The guy was a maniac for music.
Morgan stifled a yawn. “I think I’m about ready to head home.”
“I can walk you over.” The words tumbled from me before I could stop them.
Fuuucckkk.
Morgan stilled. “Ah sure, thanks,” she said before turning on her heel and heading for the door.
I followed her outside, where shadows stained the sky and the moon watched us from its disconcerting corner of the world. The night was eerily quiet, the crunch of gravel as we made our way down my drive and over to her place seemingly magnified.
Our feet soon scraped against Morgan’s front porch, and she turned to face me, swaying slightly from the aftereffects of the evening’s alcohol.
“Tonight’s been… fun,” she said, looking up at me now her heels were in her hands.
I leaned against the beam holding up her porch. “Yeah, you seemed to fit right in,” I lied.
It couldn’t be further from the truth.
