Page 88 of Bewitch

I climb into my car and watch him head over to his. It’s an older model, but looks don’t matter. Only what’s on the inside. If the car is reliable and gets him from one place to another, then he’s good to go.

He heads out of the lot, and we follow them. His apartment complex is shaped like an “H,” and his place is in the middle.

“There isn’t an elevator here,” he says.

“A blessing.”

“Not when you want to hurry and get home already.”

“Hmm. If only if there was a way to hurry with your legs,” I tease.

“You want to run?”

“Well, I would run, but I’m not sure where we’re going.”

He takes my hand in his and leads me up the stairs. Up we go to the third floor, and we head to the right almost all the way down.

Instead of unlocking and opening the door immediately, he grabs my shoulders and presses me against the wall right next to the door. He almost slams me there, and then his lips touch mine in a kiss that’s almost tentative, as if he’s testing me, tasting me.

He goes to move away, but I grab the back of his head and push my lips against his as my fingers twist into his hair. I groan against his lips, and his tongue invades my mouth. I whimper against him, wrapping my arms around him. I’m so desperate for this man. I’ve never been wetter in my entire life.

Still kissing me, he reaches over and unlocks the door. I peek my eyes open to see that his are still shut, and I almost push him away. That he can unlock the door while kissing me suggests he’s done this before, and that only hardens my steel.

As much as I want his steel inside me, I can’t let this get too far.

“You want a shower, huh?” he asks.

“Yes, but not a cold one.”

“It won’t be cold,” he promises.

He leads me inside and kicks the door shut behind us. His place is small, but I don’t have time to look around much because he’s already hurrying me along to his bathroom.

The bathroom is even smaller, and that shower… Are we both going to fit in there?

“We’ll fit,” he says, leaving me to wonder if I voiced my thought aloud.

Because we were coming here, I didn’t opt to change out of my workout clothes. I’m all sweaty and gross, so I rush to take off my clothes before he can. No one wants to touch a sweaty sports bra, not even the wears of them.

And that’s when it sinks in.

I’m naked.

In Lucas’s bathroom.

The desire to cover myself up overwhelms me, and I do, using one arm to cover both nipples, my other hand covering my waxed bush.

“You don’t need to cover up,” Lucas murmurs.

His bewitching stare doesn’t let me look away as he slowly removes his shirt. His six-pack is seriously impressive, and I lick my lips, wanting to taste his ridges. He tosses the shirt onto the ground, and his lips curl into a smirk as his shorts lower down his legs.

“Wait,” I say, reaching out with my hand covering my lower part to touch his wrist. “Boxer briefs or…”

“No.”

I blink. “Tighty-whities?”

“No.” He chuckles.

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