Page 46 of Summoned
And yet, beneath my skin, something akin to anticipation coils as I wait for my magic to recharge, so I may visit my Baroness again tonight. She won our little game, so I shall honor my promise not to disturb her if she’s with company…or in the shower.
That doesn’t mean I won’t be watching.
When I teleport, my unseen form materializes on the back seat of a car. Nicole is in the front,straddlingthe lap of the driver, Branimir. His fingers are tangled in her tousled hair, and his mouth is pressed to hers.
Magic stirs in my chest, as if responding to a will that doesn’t belong to me. I ignore the foreign sensation and feast on the scene unfolding before me. I do enjoy witnessing my harvests in a new light. What’s a more vulnerable moment than one driven by lust?
I follow the movements of Mr. Amateur Porn Star. His hand drifts lazily along her waist, glides over the curve of her hip, toys with the hem of her blue dress…and then slips beneath it.
Magic flares within me, igniting like dark threads unraveling in every direction.
He’s touchingmyBaroness.
The thought pierces both my mind and chest with the sharpness of a blade. And before I can stop myself, I break the promise I gave her last night. Along with at least two or three of my own rules.
15
Nicole
Icarefully orchestrated this evening. A look that’s casual, yet provocative. Innocent words laced with subtle hints. A charming man with behavior predictable enough for me to remain in control. An easy escape, should I choose to flee.
For now, though, everything unfolds as planned. The night is sultry and full of promise. The wine thins my blood, creating a sense of lightness. Countless stars above scatter their romantic light over the open roof of the convertible. I laugh often enough. Branimir’s compliments are almost original, and his biceps hold my gaze just as firmly as his smile. His cologne smells of leather—rich and masculine, so potent that in our closeness, it clings to my senses and pushes out every other scent.
For a while, I forget about Gaetano and the card game we played last night. How I won, but in reality, I collapsed —figuratively and otherwise. That arrogant remark of his, which still has the power to make me blush. Worst of all? For several humiliating seconds, I forgot he was a witcher, and trickery is his craft.
Gaetano may be after my soul, but I won’t let him steal my time. So when Branimir texted earlier with an invitation, I decided it was fate sending me a sign.Get on with your life, Nicole. A lioness doesn’t lose control over a single game of cards. Or an annoying comment.
Besides, I think I might have figured out the answer to his riddle…
Branimir leans across the gearshift, and all thoughtsvanish from my mind. He trails kisses down my neck, his tongue playing over the bare skin above my neckline. His lips are tempting, his hands curious. Exactly what I need.
“Come here, gorgeous.” He grips my waist and sweeps me over. I land in his lap.
My palms press against the hard muscles of his chest. “You really are strong…”
“And Ireallylike you,” he says, half-lidded, and kisses me again. His tongue enters my mouth—hungry and untamed.
A faint breeze carries a sweet scent. As I sense the change in the air, my body stiffens. My eyes snap open to make sure it’s Branimir with me, not someone else. Green eyes. Fair hair. It’s him…But it’s still not enough to calm me.
I glance at the back seat, as if expecting to find the source of the friction lingering in the air.
“Are you all right?” Branimir asks.
“Yes, I…”
Damn that Black Joker. Even in his absence, my mind refuses to let go of him.
“Nicole?” Branimir’s voice reaches me.
I seize his lips with sudden fervor, determined not to let Gaetano ruin this moment. Branimir groans, clutching my hips and pulling me closer. The intimacy offers a vivid impression of the desire flowing through his body.
A pleasant heat coils low in my abdomen. My eyelids flutter while I savor the sensation of the strong male form pinned beneath me. But behind my lids, another face emerges. Chiseled and cold, carved to cut through me with every glance. That insufferable smile I would give anything to wipe away by beating him at his own game. And those black eyes that steal my breath each time they linger too long on mine.
I don’t like him—I despise him!
Branimir’s hand finds its way beneath the hem of my dress, and I arch my back, giving him easier access. I kiss him harder. Yet despite his passionate response, despite my every mental protest, I can’t help but wonder…
What would it feel like if it were Gaetano instead? If the exquisite tension inside me was from his touch? If last night, he had closed that final distance between us?
