Maggie Shayne - An Enchanted Season

Their house. Holy crap. She almost had an orgasm just at the thought of that. Waking up with Will. Eating dinner every night with him. Sharing a bed, a shower…That image went straight to her inner thighs. “Shouldn’t we look at other houses?” It was a struggle to feel practical when his hand was sliding over her clitoris through her jeans, but she forced the words out.

“I did. Didn’t like anything else.” Then he buried his head back in her breasts. “Besides, don’t you know the story? This is the honeymoon house. The original owner built it for his bride.”

How romantic was that? She almost melted right then and there, but Charlotte had heard a different version. “I heard it’s haunted…that the lady cries in the mirror upstairs because her husband left. That’s downright sad.”

“She cries from missing him because they were so in love. That’s romantic. We can bring love back to this house, sweetheart.” He peeled her bra down and licked her nipple. “Starting right now.”

“Okay.” She did like the house. And it was the spot where Will had proposed. And he was doing really amazing things to her nipple, which made really just about everything make sense. “Let’s buy it.”

“It might be cool living in a haunted house, as long as this ghost isn’t yanking down my zipper like the one in your garage.”

Whoops. Guess she had never really discussed that with him. She really wasn’t at all sure how he was going to like the idea of having a witch for a wife. Not that she was exactly witchy, but still, he might not be comfortable with her strange new ability to levitate objects. She wasn’t comfortable with it, come to think of it.

“That wasn’t a ghost, baby.”

“Well, something did it. I didn’t imagine it. Or the fact that someone grabbed my butt.”

Had she done that, too? Charlotte didn’t see how that was possible, but at the same time, she’d been waxing quite poetic about his ass right at that particular moment. “You see, the thing is, you know how Bree thinks I’m a witch?”

“Uh-huh.” His mouth switched to her other breast.

Like it wasn’t hard enough to force out the words. He was seriously distracting her.

“Bree says I can move objects. She says I unzipped your pants with my mind.”

Will went completely still, tongue on her nipple. His breath blew hot on her slick skin, making her nipples firm even more. “Say that again.”

She really wanted to just forget the whole thing and go back to foreplay, but he had obviously gotten distracted by the whole “I’m a paranormal freak” thing she’d just thrown at him. “I unzipped your pants. I was, well, interested in you, sexually, you know, and I envisioned your jacket opening, and it did. Then I pictured your pants unzipping and they did. I’m sorry.” She really did feel contrite about that. It wasn’t fair to unzip his pants without warning and she was going to have to learn how to control her so-called talent.

Will stood up, leaving her chest half uncovered. “So, you’re saying you did it? Did you know you could do stuff like that?”

“No. I’m still not convinced I can.”

“Unzip my pants now.”

“Will!” Charlotte felt her cheeks burn, and she wasn’t sure why. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on. I want you to.” He stood with his legs apart and hands loosely at his sides. “Unzip me. Take what you want.”

Oh, my. That was a little hard to resist. Charlotte stared at his snap and zipper, pictured them opening for her. Pictured what was behind them. Pictured wanting him, undressing him. She chanted down in her head over and over, concentrating on the metal button, vision blurring.

And the button popped open. The zipper went down.

“Whoa,” Will said.

Charlotte felt a strange sort of pride in her accomplishment. “I can’t believe I can do this.”

Will grinned, peeling off his winter jacket and tossing it to the floor. “Think of how many ways you can take advantage of me.”

“You don’t mind that I have a freakish ability?”

“Hell, no. That is seriously hot, sweetheart. Just don’t ever get mad at me and wing dishes at my head.”

“I’m not a dish-throwing kind of girl.”

“I know.” Will sat down on a fussy Victorian sofa in front of the fireplace. “But you’re not really the nice girl you claim to be, either. You have a naughty side, too.”

“Maybe I do. More than I realized.” Because she was already stripping her jeans off, just like that, and climbing onto his lap. “We’d better make it quick,” she told him, even as she ground her panties against his erection. “The heat’s not on in here. And you never know who might show up.”

“I can be quick.”

He wasn’t lying. He had somehow managed to spring himself free, and while he kissed the stuffing out of her, he got her shirt up, bra unhooked, and panties pulled to the side. Before she could barely blink, his finger was inside her, stroking her incoherent. Charlotte plunged her tongue into his mouth, needing to taste him, her hands in his hair, holding on. God, she loved him. She never wanted to let him go.

Desire spiraled into desperation. Normally, she’d always thought of herself as a little bit sexually inhibited, but none of that was in evidence with Will. She just felt, reacted, took. Ripping his shirt up, she pressed her bare chest against his, dragging a moan from both of them at that wonderful collision of hot flesh on flesh.

Will lifted up her hips and brought her down onto him with one smooth motion. Charlotte couldn’t have even explained what exactly happened to her panties. Somehow they were sideways, enough out of the way to accomplish the primary goal, which was him deep inside her. She let her head drift back as he lifted up into her, the angle pressing his pelvis into her clitoris in a frantic tease. Charlotte lifted her hips and slammed down onto him, meeting him thrust for thrust, frenzied and determined. She needed it hard, needed to feel all of him, needed to take them there together.

So much for slow again. Will figured maybe eventually they’d get there, in about a year. He just wanted Charlotte too damn much to have any sort of patience whatsoever. She seemed to feel the same way, given the way she was bucking up and down on him, her breasts brushing against his chest, her ass soft and sexy on his thighs. When she came, Will thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She was so honest in her appreciation, her cries loud and unrestrained, her eyes rolled back, her fingers gripping his skull.

Her convulsion jerked his head back, and that was all it took to make him join her. Will pulsed into her, straining, holding her at the waist, wanting her still so he could fill her as completely as possible. It had some solid staying power, and Will finally collapsed back against the sofa and let out a little laugh.

“Was that quick enough?” he asked, blinking hard to focus on her.

Her skin was shiny and pink from exertion and pleasure. “That was perfect.” She grinned and leaned forward to kiss him softly.

Will stroked her back lazily. Then heard a car door slam. “Uh, sweetheart, I think someone’s in the drive.”

She leapt off him with a dexterity that was impressive, tucking and adjusting and pulling her jeans back on. Will did the same and he was just slipping back into his jacket when they heard the front door open and giggling.

“You can see my new thong,” a female voice said.

Uh-oh. Will knew that voice. He darted a glance at Charlotte, whose face had lost all the flush from their lovemaking and every other ounce of color.

Abby and Brady Stritmeyer came into the room, laughing and kissing and pawing at each other’s clothes.