“One minute,” Nessa warned.
“Chica,it’s only complicated if you make it complicated.”
My head swiveled to Jo. “What do you mean?”
“Sex is simple,” he told me, very matter-of-fact. “Feelings are complicated.”
My eyes widened. “Surely, you’re not suggesting I—”
“Suck his baseballs and ride his rock-hard bat until you explode like the pop of a mitt?” Nessa’s suggestion shocked us all into silence. “Yes, that’s exactly what June’s suggesting.”
“Wow.” June’s breath whooshed out of her. “That was graphic.”
Nessa scrunched her lips together. “Look,” she said, directing her words to me, “there’s nothing wrong with a mutually agreed upon fling.”
“All-out fuck fest,” June amended.
“Whatever you want to call it. You’re both recently single, you clearly have chemistry, and there’s no rule prohibiting the two of you from exploring that.”
“With your bodies.” June wagged her brows.
“If you want to fuck to his brains out, then do it. Nobody’s stopping you.” Nessa sat back in her seat, composing herself. “Now, do you want to cast a spell or not?”
And just like that, we were back to the game, er, campaign. Physically, at least. My mind was on other things. They were right. Despite what Mama might say, there was nothing wrong with pursuing a strictly physical relationship with Soren. We were both attracted to each other, that much was clear. We were both unattached. We’d be seeing a lot more of each other in the coming weeks, when we all headed to Arizona for Spring Training. Why shouldn’t we enjoy ourselves?
Scratch that.
Why shouldn’tIenjoymyselffor once?
I swallowed my nerves before downing the last of my drink. I swallowed that, too. “Fuck it,” I said, louder than before. June and Nessa’s eyes widened. The fact that I’d said the expletive aloud—probably for the first time in my life—didn’t escape my notice. “Let’s cast a spell.”
“Huzzah,” they both squealed.
I channeled that same energy for the next few hours as my character, Heralda the hedge witch, navigated the ups and downs of East Salem. I channeled it even when together, wefaced our first fictional foe, a demon unleashed from the gates of hell by Brogan and his army.
And I channeled it later, after we’d finished playing for the night, all the way back to Bed of Roses.
I knocked on the door, the sound reverberating through the otherwise quiet campsite. When he swung it open, I didn’t expect to find him clad only in a towel, water droplets clinging to his bare chest.
“Did you come for the show, blondie?”
He grinned wickedly. I’d been caught, yet again, ogling his well-defined body—a stark contrast to Walden’s limp figure. Not that there was anything wrong with a slimmer man. On the contrary, I’d always been attracted to men with “gamer boy” bodies, as Viv called it. But Walden’s body insecurities had rivaled those of most nineteen-year-old coeds. Whenever we’d gone to luncheons or fundraisers, it had always looked like he was playing dress-up, trying to fill out his daddy’s suit rather than one made for his smaller frame.
Something told me that Soren only wore custom.
He’d have to with a body like that, one practically sculpted from marble. That chest. The deep V, like an arrow pointing straight toward his . . .
“Keep staring like that and it might just do a trick.”
My eyes snapped up to meet his. And in a moment of pure, unadulterated confidence, I asked, “Is that a promise?”
His nostrils flared.
Blame it on the spell. Blame it on the tequila. Blame it on the fact that I hadn’t had sex in nearly six months—and I hadn’t hadgoodsex in twenty-seven years. Whatever the reason, this midnight train had already left the station, passed Georgia, and was rambling full speed ahead towardSin.
Rather than give him the time to come up with some smartass response—and before I lost my momentary burst of sexualprowess—I took the two remaining strides across the threshold, threw my arms around his neck, and yanked his lips down to meet mine.
The moment our mouths met, everything stopped.
