Page 5 of Trickery

“No. Seriously. My uncle bottles it. Sells it mainly to billionaires in China. Go on. Try it.”

She touched the chalice to her lips. She couldn’t resist. Really. What did three thousand dollar wine taste like?

Heaven.

Absolute heaven. That’s what three thousand dollar wine tasted like. “Oh my.”

She sipped again and again and before she knew it, she’d finished the entire glass. She gusted a sigh and looked at Austin. He was watching her with the strangest look on his face. For a second, it looked oddly like…triumph, but he blinked and his usual carefree, slightly goofy persona snapped back in place.

Willow licked her lips. Surely she’d imagined that voracious glance. The glance of a predator that had captured its prey.

Clearly, her conscience was toying with her.

It wasn’t wrong to do what she was doing. It wasn’t.

She was a witch with power and he was a man she wanted. Other witches did it. They did it all the time. And obviously he wanted her or the spell would never have worked.

Was it her imagination, her rising lust or perhaps the drugging effect of the wine that made him seem slightly bigger, more dominant?

“Well?” He stepped closer, his scent wafted toward her. It was musky and heady and smelled like hunger. “Did you like it?”

She longed to taste the tiny beads of sweat clinging to his brow. Longed to skate her palm over his chest, and test the muscles. Longed to rub herself against his body like a cat.

“Willow? Did you like it?”

“Like it?”

He took the chalice from her hands, with both of his, and carefully set it on the table. From beyond the fog wrapping around her mind, she knew this was wrong. She shouldn’t have let him do that but she couldn’t remember why.

“The wine.” He kissed her, opened her lips and nudged his velvet tongue in to her mouth. Licked her. Their saliva, their scents, mingled.

She tangled her fingers in the hair at his nape, preternaturally aware of every silky strand, the velvet of his neck as she stroked. He shivered and pulled her closer. His heart thrummed in tandem with hers. His warmth sank into her. The fat wedge of his cock nudged her belly. She moaned and leaned into him. He stiffened.

“Willow.” He kissed her. Long and drugging. His essence tangled with hers, tugged. “I want you. I want you in my bed.”

“Yes, Austin.”

He lifted her in his arms and a thrill of excitement shot through her. She loved big men. Loved strong men. Loved men who took charge. She feasted on his neck as he carried her to his room, tasted and teased the soft skin, nibbled and sucked until he rumbled a little growl.

He should be at least as aroused, as helpless, as she.