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“Positive,” Sylvia said with a gleeful smile on her face. Her shoulders pulled back and chin up, she strode down the hall with a sense of confidence. “There were markings on her door exactly asshesaid there would be.”

“She must have figured out what was in the wine,” Sebastian said. “I knew it wouldn’t work. Not with her.”

“It was worth a shot,” Sylvia responded. “Besides, now we know. It’s right next door.”

Sebastian took another bite and sat in silence as he chewed. Sylvia loved silence. She reveled in it. She especially enjoyed when Sebastian drew out the silent moments in their conversations as if he was playfully teasing her. It was their game—their love language. A game of who could draw the other to speak first.

He fixated on her, peering through her eyes and straight to hersoul. A rush coursed through her body, as if every nerve ending ignited at once. Sylvia never broke eye contact. It would mean admitting he won, and she hated to lose. She took in a deep breath to steady herself. Sylvia placed her hands on the table and bent over so the view from her low-cut red dress would entice him to speak.

Sebastian smiled and set his fork on the plate. He shoved the plate to the side, never breaking his gaze. He placed his elbow on the table and interlocked his fingers together. He formed a shelf to rest his chin on with his thumbs. He leaned in closer, inches from her.

His presence overwhelmed her. His aura. His controlled, drawn-out breathing. His scent. A wonderful, woodsy aromatic fragrance captivated her senses. It set her desire ablaze. She wanted him. She grinned at him before blowing him a kiss. He remained unfazed. She leaned forward, pushing her arms in closer to her chest.

His breath washed over her like a silent siren song, provoking her emotions, her desires.

Sebastian leaned back, holding his captivating stare over her. A possible sign of surrender in their little game. He untied his tie and let it dangle over his chest. She couldn’t help but imagine the tie dangling and brushing against his muscular chest. The temptation to peek was too great, but couldn’t let him win.

He stood up, never taking his eyes off of Sylvia. Her eyes still locked onto his with his every movement. He sashayed around the table. She didn’t move. She wanted him to see her low-cut dress hugging the curves of her ass as it flowed from the small of her back to the floor.

He didn’t take the bait. He never broke his gaze. Their tango dance of the eyes continued.

She stood as Sebastian towered over her. They nearly touched, separated only by the tension between them. She wanted to win so badly. She had to win. She thought of something, anything, to break his gaze and the silence. She raised both of her hands, and with the gentle touch of her fingers, ran them down hischest toward his stomach.

He pulled out his tie and fashioned it into a fireman’s knot. With one swift move, he stepped back, placed her hands into the knot, and tightened. He pulled on the tie, raising her hands above her head. The momentum pushed her backward, pinning her against the wall. She gasped and blinked, caught off guard by the movement.

He leaned in with a mischievous smile. “I win,” Sebastian said in a low growl.

“No fair,” Sylvia responded in low, hushed tones. “You can’t use props.”

“My game, my rules.”

He moved in as if to kiss her. His lips lingered over hers, letting her suffer in the wait, the anticipation. Sylvia bit her lip. Her chest rose and fell with every deep breath. She squirmed back and forth, awaiting his next move. The tension was like ambrosia to her.

“Can you sense it?” Sebastian growled. “Can you feel how close we are?”

She could. Every teasing breath he took, caused her body to tighten and grow more tense. She craved the touch of his lips, hoping it would ease the suffering within her soul. He held his lips back as if to let the tension linger. It was torturous. It was insufferable. It was exquisite.

“After years of searching, years of wanting, years of waiting . . .” he whispered. “It’s right there for the taking. So close. Can you feel it?”

“I can feel it,” she moaned. “I want it. I must have it. I need it. Now!” She raised her eyebrows with excitement.

He pulled back. “Not yet. In due time.”

“It’s right there. Right next door,” Sylvia said. “The Lovers’ Kiss. It’s so close. I can sense it. I can taste it. I want itnow.”

Sylvia had searched for hundreds of years for the spell. She was close so many times, but never this close. Never close enough where the spell was right next door to her. Hidden away inside a witch’s purple house. The only thing she wanted more than going next doorand taking the house apart, piece by piece, was for Sebastian to take her upstairs and ravage her in pure bliss.

Sebastian raised his free hand. He placed his fingers under her chin. His thumb traced an invisible line over her lips and down her chin. “Patience, my love,” he whispered. “We continue with our plan. We’ll squeeze them. We’ll torture them. We’ll make them suffer. They’ll have no choice but to hand it over. And when they do, we’ll bleed them dry.”

She narrowed her eyes and pouted her lips, exhaling at the thought. Sylvia squirmed in her restraints. Her body was now aflame with passion and desire. She could easily loosen herself from the restraint, but she relished in it. She loved it. Sebastian was the one man, the one person, who could temper her controlling desires. She surrendered to his every whim.

“Let’s follow the plan,” Sylvia whispered. “Let’s wait.”

“That’s my good girl.” He leaned in and kissed her.

Sebastian was in full control. Their lips met in soft, slow, deliberate gentle touches. She wanted him to press further, to end the glorious, painful suffering of desire in her passionate soul. Their lips brushed against each other as he savored the exploration of her supple, red lips.

She clenched her fists, wanting to break free from her restraints, so she could wrap them around his body to draw him closer. Her heart raced and her body yearned for his touch. Her soul was alive.