Page 43 of A Match Made in Coven
He pushed against her even harder, and she wrapped her legs behind his back, seeking more friction. She traced the contours of Lorcan’s muscular back under his hoodie, relishing the warmth of his skin and how his muscles flexed under her touch. Lorcan’s hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake as they explored every curve and dip.
She tasted the faintest hint of whiskey on Lorcan’s breath, mixed with something uniquely him that had her craving more. Her legs tightened around his waist as she arched into him, desperate to eliminate any remaining space between their bodies.
Lorcan’s fingers tangled in her hair, gently tugging to angle her head and grant him better access to her throat. He bit her next. His other hand splayed across her lower back, supporting her as he leaned her farther back on the desk. Papers scattered and fell to the floor, forgotten in the heat of their embrace. The cool surface of the desk contrasted with the warmth radiating from Lorcan’s body, creating a delicious sensory overload that had Sarah Michelle’s head spinning.
Their breathing grew ragged, hot puffs of air mingling between them during the brief moments their lips parted before crashing together again. Sarah Michelle nipped at Lorcan’s bottom lip, eliciting a low growl that reverberated through her entire body.
She could feel the beat of his heart against her chest, a drumming echo to her own frenzied pulse. They were two forces caught in a storm of desire, each kiss a stroke of lightning that illuminated the dark corners of yearning they had both tried so hard to keep hidden.
Lorcan’s thumb grazed the curve of her jaw, tracing the line as if he were memorizing the shape of her with his touch. His lips followed, leaving a scorching trail as they ventured from her mouth down to the hollow of her throat, where he lingered, kissing and sucking at her pulse point.
Sarah Michelle had always prided herself on her self-control, but with Lorcan’s lips marking a path of fire on her skin, every last shred of restraint crumbled away like ash. She could feel the magic in the air surrounding them, the tangible electricity that crackled and sparked with each graze of his lips, each press of his body against hers.
Lorcan’s hand slipped under the hem of her sweater, his fingers ghosting over the soft skin of her stomach. She gasped at the contact, her muscles quivering under his touch. His hand drifted higher, tracing the curve of her rib cage, inching ever closer to the lacy edge of her bra.
They should stop. They were treading on dangerous ground, but when his knuckle brushed the underside of her boob, she lost all sense of reason.
She tugged impatiently at his hoodie, desperate to feel his skin against hers with no barriers. Lorcan obliged, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull the garment over his head and toss it aside.
Sarah Michelle’s gaze raked over his exposed torso, drinking in his chiseled abs and the tantalizing trail of golden hair that disappeared into the waistband of his sweatpants. She ran her fingernails down his chest.
Lorcan groaned, the sound low and guttural, as she scraped her nails over his pecs. His pupils blew out. She was sure he was about to take her on this desk, make her his, when the temperature in the room dropped by ten degrees. Lorcan must’ve felt it too because his body turned rigid. They pulled apart, searching for the source of the sudden chill.
A figure materialized out of the shadows in the corner, translucent and glowing with an eerie blue light. The ghost of a woman.
Her wedding dress was soaked in blood, the once pristine white fabric now marred with dried crimson stains. Her dark hair floated around her head, as if caught in an invisible current, framing her pale, lifeless face. The deep stab wounds on her torso and neck were visible, and her hollow eyes carried the weight of her tragic end. She hovered silently, an ethereal figure of sorrow and violence.
Sarah Michelle and Lorcan sprang apart, their passion doused by the specter’s sudden appearance. The ghost’s gaze fixed upon them, her translucent face twisted in anguish and despair. She raised a pale, skeletal hand, pointing an accusatory finger at the startled couple.
A haunting wail escaped the ghost’s lips, the unintelligible sound sending shivers down Sarah Michelle’s spine. The air in the room grew even more frigid, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Despite the fear gripping her heart, recognition stirred within Sarah Michelle.
“Mary?” The resemblance between Sarah Michelle and the ghostly figure was uncanny.
The ghost’s hollow eyes widened, and her mouth opened in an anguished silent scream that rattled the windows and caused the light fixtures to flicker.
Then, as abruptly as she had appeared, the ghost vanished, leaving behind a chilling absence and an unsettling stillness. Sarah Michelle blinked, her mind struggling to process what had just happened. Lorcan’s confident demeanor had been replaced by an astonished look.
They stared at each other in shock and bewilderment.
Lorcan broke the silence first, scratching the back of his neck as a charming smile played on his lips. “Guess the appearance of a bloodied ancestor ghost put a damper on other fun activities,” he quipped, his attempt at humor falling flat in the eerie atmosphere.
Sarah Michelle hopped off the desk, her legs still shaky from the intense kiss and the supernatural interruption. Kissing Lorcan had felt so right, so electric, but now her head swirled with the cautionary tales her family had told her about his coven. The Blacks were trouble, they had warned her, and even her ancestor had to rise from the dead to remind her of that fact.
“I’m sorry.” She averted her gaze from Lorcan’s—she wouldn’t have the strength to say what needed to be said if she was looking him in the eyes. “We shouldn’t have kissed. It was a mistake.”
Lorcan sighed, his shoulders slumping as he retrieved his hoodie from the floor, disappointed. “Our families have their differences, but what I feel for you is real. Don’t let the past dictate our future.”
“I can’t, Lorcan. I have to go home.” She glanced at the antique clock on the wall, its hands inching toward midnight. “We can meet again in the morning to study a way to nail MacGregor and prove he’s Elijah’s killer.”
Lorcan stepped forward, his hand grasping hers. “It’s too late to drive. Stay here tonight, in one of the guest rooms. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
But Sarah Michelle was already heading toward the front door, pulling on her coat as she went—her mind made up. She flung the door open, relishing the gush of cool night air. “Don’t worry, I’m not driving.”
She didn’t look back. Stepping onto the doorstep, Sarah Michelle closed her eyes and focused her energy. In a burst of shimmering light, her wings unfurled, their iridescent feathers glowing against the dark sky. Without looking back, she leaped into the air, the powerful beats of her wings propelling her higher and higher.
As she soared through the night, the wind whipping through her hair, Sarah Michelle smiled. The chilly breeze caressed her skin, providing some respite from the heat that had consumed her while kissing Lorcan. It was the equivalent of a much-needed cold shower.
But even as she flew away from him, Sarah Michelle couldn’t shake the phantom sensation of his lips on hers, nor the images of the ghostly figure from her mind. The searing heat, the feel of his skin, the taste of him. The spine-chilling wail, the accusatory finger, and the uncanny resemblance of the ghost’s features to her own.
