“I imagine your magic might have been driven by the unconscious desire to make you happy, so it’s placing you in the scenes you’ll enjoy most.” He pulls his hand from mine and pats at the air, instinctively looking for his hidden pocket, without any luck since magic doesn’t exist here. “By the goddess, how am I supposed to research this if I can’t write it down?”
We stop dancing for long enough that my magic swirls around us again, dropping us back to the beginning of this scene and making his glare sharpen into scowl number three, which I’m calling his how-dare-you expression.
“I think we need to focus on the dancing for now,” I hurry to say.
He grunts and watches the other couples. “So if this isn’t the waltz, what dance isthis?”
“I’m not sure.” I shake my head. “It doesn’t look exactly like any dance I’ve ever seen. It’s not a waltz or any of the Latin dances used in ballroom. Maybe a foxtrot of some kind? I’ve never seen one this fast.”
We fumble along for long enough that Miss Michelle finally makes her way over to us. “Luke, Luke, Luke. This is a freeform foxtrot. You can do what you want, but you need to loosen those hips.” She puts her hands on hers and demonstrates a few steps. “Slow, slow, quick, quick.”
“Slow, slow, quick, quick,” he growls the moment she turns away. “Yet another dance to practice.”
“She did say we’re doing freeform.” I try to smile. “That’s good, at least. That means we can do any kind of foxtrot, and the spell will find it good enough.”
“Are you certain of that?” He lifts an eyebrow.
“Yep,” I lie, hoping I can make my words true. “We can do this. We just need to work together.”
We do okay for a bit, moving too slowly, but getting the basic steps down… until one of the other couples does a surprise twirl into what had been empty space.
Luke leads me in a step, and something hits the back of my knee, buckling that leg. We topple over, one of his arms wrapped around my waist, his other palm slapped to the floor beside my head to keep us from hitting hard.
He’s ontopof me, one muscular thigh wedged between my legs, my breasts crushed to his chest with delicious pressure. He lets out a groan of desire so heady I want to bathe in it, let it seep into my every pore, so I can feel exactly how much he wants me.
My hips shift the tiniest bit, and he settles more of his weight between them.
“Skye,” he rasps my name, his eyes locked onto my lips.
Is this it? Is he going to kiss me? My heart leaps against my ribs, a caged thing trying to break free.
Luke’s head dips, his breath brushing over my lips—
The tingling in my body grows and grows… and golden sparkles surround us, whirling us back to the middle of the dance floor, where we have to start this scene all over again.
My body still hums with desire, and it would be so easy to sway toward him, to—
“Goddess, help me,” Luke spits. “We can’t mess uplike that again.”
“What?” I jerk upright with a wince. He’s that upset about what just happened? Oh, god, here I thought he wanted to kiss me, but that was foolish. Of course, he doesn’t want to kiss me. Luke didn’t ask for any of this—it’s my spell making all of this happen.
What he really wants is to not be here at all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lukendevener
Skye blinks up at me with those huge forget-me-not eyes, her candy lips just as pink and plump and tempting as they were only seconds ago when the spell ripped us away from our almost-kiss and deposited us back at the start of the scene.
“Goddess, help me,” I grit out. “We can’t mess up like that again.” I won’t survive another round of being on top of her without being able to take her. She’s far too tempting with her lush curves, her sweet and spicy scent filling my every breath.
“What?” The little witch flinches, hurt pinching her pretty features. She starts nodding, rabbit fast. “Oh, of course. Yes, I’ll try not to fall this time.”
That’s not what I meant, but the dance instructor yells instructions to another of the couples, reminding me yet again that we’ll be stuck here unless we finish this lessonsuccessfully.
“Come.” I tighten my hold on Skye and start the new dance, this so-called foxtrot. Two long steps forward, followed by two quick steps to the side. I repeat it over and over.
“Luke, Luke, Luke.” Miss Michelle comes over. “This is a freeform foxtrot. You can do what you want, but you need to loosen those hips.” She shimmies her hips, her feet gliding through steps with a fluidity I can’t match. “Slow, slow, quick, quick.”
