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He recognized the voice of Astrid from when she dealt with the building’s real estate transfer.

“The charge is as it should be, almost ripe for the picking,” Astrid replied. “I sense it calling for us.”

These women were as cryptic as could be. If he’d overheard any other group of women talking like this, he’d think they’d been drinking too much. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if they started chanting‘Double, double, toil and trouble.’

“Good,” said Nadine. “We will stay and act merry for another short while. Then we will take our leave and rest. There is much to do.”

Montgomery felt Willow shift under him, her shoulders quaking in his embrace. He squeezed her into him, and felt her head pivot up. And then her lips were so close, he could feel the barely-there tickle of their touch. The smallest movement, and her mouth would be on his. And this time, he wouldn’t hold back.

The ladies of the coven lingered inside the office for another minute, one of them lamenting her choice of shoes. When they closed the door behind them and the office fell silent, he didn’t let go of Willow. He did the opposite of let go. His hands drifted up her shoulders, tracking their way up her neck, and landing on her face, gently cupping her cheeks.

“I didn’t ask permission to kiss you before,” he said. “And so I’m asking you now—”

“Yes!” she blurted. “And if you ask me again, I’ll clobber you.”

He lowered his head then and took her mouth with the fervor and ardor of a first and last kiss all rolled into one. She seemed to meld into him, their lips so warm, there was no telling where one ended and the other began.

She giggled. “Your mustache tickles.”

“You like it,” he moaned into her mouth, kissing her deeper until she sagged into him, nails sinking into his sides.

Greedily, he pulled her closer until there was no more space between them, his chest tightening as he kissed her with every ounce of passion he could stand. Her gasps sent a shiver through him, and he felt buoyant and so alive.

Alive.

“I’m afraid I’m addicted to you, Miss Ravensong,” he rasped into the kiss. “We’ll have to live in this closet from now on.”

She clung to him. “As long as someone brings us food, I’m okay with that.”

Gliding his fingertips gently down her neck and shoulders, chest aching to devour her, he said brokenly, “We should go back to the party.”

“Yeah,” she said absently. “Sure.”

Even as she whispered the words, her teeth scraped over his bottom lip and all reason went out the window.

He met her in the kiss stroke for stroke, surrounding her with his arms, giving her his whole soul, consuming all he could, and yet, with a measure of careful tenderness.

Breathing hard, he pressed his forehead to hers, taking her face in his hands. “If we don’t stop right now…”

“I know,” she said, panting a little. “People will wonder where we are.”

“And I think Dale was making drinks last time I checked.”

“Oh no. That could turn into a disaster.”

He stroked a strand of her hair back into place. “How about you take a minute to freshen up while I make you a cocktail?”

“That sounds perfect,” she said. “Surprise me?”

“I’ll come up with something.”

With a quick kiss, he opened the closet door, smiling bashfully in the warm light of the office, and went back to the party.

He was just in time to see the coven take their leave out the front door. Relieved, he headed to the bar where Dale was flipping shakers and glassware behind his back.

After a round of applause from the few people gathered around him, he took a small bow.

“I’ve watchedCocktailon DVD hundreds of times, studying the moves,” he bragged.