Page 38 of Trick Me
Ash checks his watch. “It’s only one thirty. We have time to kill.”
“Well, I can’t kill it dressed like this.” I gesture at myself—his jacket, which barely covers the essentials, and shoes that have definitely seen better days. “I need clothes. Real clothes.”
“I don’t know.” He almost purrs the words. “I’m rather fond of this look.”
“Of course you are. It’s your jacket.”
“It looks better on you.”
“Everything would look better on me right now. A potato sack would be an improvement.”
Ash glances at me for a long pause. “Stay here,” he orders. “I might have a solution. Something that’ll cover you up better.”
And then he disappears into the ballroom crowd, leaving me to lean against a wall and try not to feel too exposed. The wolf is restless, pacing inside me, wanting to find him. It’s disturbing how quickly I’ve gotten attached to Ash’s presence, how wrong it feels when he’s not near.
He returns carrying a dress, deep green silk that actually looks like it might fit. “Found this in the coat check. Someone left it with a note saying ‘For whoever needs it more.’?”
“That’s either very kind or very cursed.”
“Only one way to find out.”
I slip into a nearby powder room to change, and miracle of miracles, the dress fits perfectly. It’s simple but elegant—long sleeves, hem that hits just above my knees with a sexy slit up the side of my leg, low back that shows the scratches I definitely don’t remember getting. When I emerge, Ash’s expression makes the whole cursed night worth it.
“You look…” he starts, then stops, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Like a person wearing actual clothes?”
“Beautiful. Stunning. Hypnotic,” he says simply, and the sincerity in his voice has me blushing.
“You need a new shirt,” I deflect, but my voice comes out breathier than intended.
He takes the jacket from my hands and slides it on, tucking the parchment paper into its pocket. “This willdo. Now, let’s pretend we’re just two people at a party. No curse, no power swap, no zombies in the woods.”
“That’s a lot of pretending.”
“I’m very good at faking it.” He offers me his arm. “Dance with me?”
“I should warn you—I’m terrible at it. Two left feet, no sense of rhythm, and a tendency to step on toes.”
“Perfect. I have a tendency to lead whether my partner wants me to or not.”
We step onto the dance floor, where the party is somehow more intense. The music is darker now, thrumming with bass that I feel in my bones. Bodies press together, and more than a few couples are definitely doing more than dancing in the shadows.
Ash pulls me into the crowd, and I discover that he wasn’t lying about the leading thing. He moves with the kind of confidence that makes up for my complete lack of coordination, his hand resting low on my back, just shy of indecent, as he guides me through the steps. Every touch sends heat pooling low in my belly.
When I stumble, he catches me easily, palm sliding along my waist, fingers brushing the side of my breast like it’s nothing. Like he doesn’t notice. But the way his eyes darken says otherwise. My pulse skitters. I let out a breathless laugh, and his grin flashes in return, wolfish, knowing.
He leans in, lips grazing the shell of my ear. “I wantyou to know that I meant everything I said back there. With the witch.”
My smile fades into something softer, needier. I can’t meet his eyes without feeling scorched. “Me too,” I finally admit. “And I’m letting you take the lead,” I murmur, not referring to just the dancing anymore.
His fingers flex at my waist, tugging me a fraction closer, until the press of our bodies turns the dance into something else entirely. My chest brushes his with every breath. Heat bursts low in my stomach, and I stop pretending this is just about movement.
“Where did you learn to dance?” I gasp, breath fluttering across his ear as the music swells around us.
“Pack gatherings,” he murmurs, his voice rough and warm against my neck. “My mother insisted all young wolves learn. Said it was about knowing how to move with a partner. Reading their body. Trusting the rhythm. Giving in, taking control, sometimes both at once.”
“Sounds like she knew her stuff.”
