Page 47 of The Wicked

But he could have my body. I felt the vibrations as he groaned into my mouth, the impossible hardness of him as he pressed against me, the heat that rolled off him in waves. He kissed like a tsunami, full of raw power and energy. Plus he made my panties wet.

Finally, we broke apart, and once again he watched me, but this time, his gaze was filled with promises. Dark, dangerous promises.

“I think I just had a life-changing experience.”

“Think?” he asked.

Crap. Did I say that out loud?

“I…” It came out as a croak. “I… My mouth’s gone dry.”

“Then I’ll get you a drink.”

He tried to steer me toward the crowd at the bar, but I shook my head. “The bar guy stares at my boobs.”

“Want me to punch him?”

“That’s a joke, right?”

He nuzzled my neck, and then I felt the bite of teeth on my earlobe. “That depends on your answer.”

“No, I don’t want you to punch him.”

Another nibble, and the pinch of pain zapped downward. By the time it reached its destination, it had turned into pleasure. Huh. How did that work?

“Stay here.”

The first bars of “Need You Tonight” played, and I spun away lip-syncing because the words were pretty darn accurate. Garrett took a step after me, but I flicked my fingers toward the bar.

“Down, boy. Drink.”

Without his arms around me, I realised just how unsteady on my feet I’d become. Those two-for-one cocktails were a killer, but at least it would be a pleasant death. Might as well throw my hands up and dance before my pumpkin coach showed up. Was it midnight yet? I tried to check my watch, but the numbers blurred together. It wasn’t a fancy watch. My mom hadn’t been a fan of ostentatiousness, just love. Dad had given her the timepiece for their fifth anniversary, and whenever I got down in the dumps—more down in the dumps than usual—I flipped it over and read the inscription on the back.

Love always wins.

Since they died, I’d never experienced love, so maybe that’s why I was such a loser?

Someone jostled me, and I stumbled to the side, head spinning. Room spinning. Whole darn world spinning. But then hands steadied me, strong hands, and hips ground against my ass. Wow, had Charming’s dick finally deflated? I mean, I wasn’t an expert on male genitalia, but surely it was unnatural to be hard for hours on end?

“You’re hot,” a stranger’s voice rasped in my ear, and the horror slowly became clear as my new dance partner breathed stale beer over me.

These are the wrong hands.

Yeuch.

Instinct took over, and I whirled and slapped the guy before reason caught up. His cocky smile slid away, replaced with a scowl.

“What was that for, bitch?”

“Get your hands off me.”

He reached for my hips again. “A prick-tease like you needs to learn a lesson. Don’t offer what you’re not willin’ to deliver.”

“I’m just dancing, you jerk.”

“Got a better use for that smart tongue of yours, little lady.”

“Let go!” I ordered, but his grip tightened as I struggled. “Get away—”

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