Page 39 of A Spell for Midwinter’s Heart

The door gave way, and they stole into one of the pale gray utility warehouses at the far end of the festival grounds.

Inside, a line of sleighs were parked, piled high with blankets.

The moment she turned from locking the door, he caught her by the arms, forging a path up her neck with his mouth that cut off her words and left her gasping.

“Do you have a condom?” she managed.

“I didn’t.” Patting his pocket, he continued, “But a group of old ladies was going around handing them out like party favors.”

“Witches,” murmured Rowan, affectionately this time, and then his mouth overtook hers. He tasted of all her favorite flavors of the season—cinnamon and clove and orange.

His hands traveled down to her ass. He squeezed so hard he nearly lifted her to her toes as he sent them staggering back against the chilly black leather of the nearest sleigh, where he trapped her in his arms. Her hips craned for his in the way she wanted on the floor, and her hands dug into the sweater at his back, eager to reveal the hard lines of muscle she’d previewed in the sauna.

The bodice of the Victorian dress strained with the swelling of her breasts, every inhale threatening to snap its fastenings, and Gavin fumbled to release its endless line of pearl buttons from their lace trappings.

His voice low and graveled with intention, he said, “I hope you appreciate the effort that went into buttoning this up, because I spent the whole time fighting the urge to undo them.”

“Trust me. It was challenging over here too.”

“I could tell. You were blushing, and…” He massaged the hard buttons of her nipples through the fabric, sending a rocket of pleasure through her body. “At attention.”

As the top of the bodice fell away, his eyes spread wide with desire and he pressed his face into her exposed cleavage, plundering his way up to her clavicle to fill her hollows with his tongue.

She gave a flick of magic, and the remaining buttons came free all at once.

If he questioned how it happened, he didn’t voice it, only let out a noise of pleased surprise as the dress slid free.

“God, Rowan,” he exhaled. At the sight of her body, his restraint evaporated. He pinned her against the sleigh with his hips, the already hard line of him pressing into her belly, and his hands roamed, unable to decide where to land, intent on touching every part of her. “Or should I say goddess?”

“We believe in both,” she murmured. “The goddess just gets first billing.”

“As it should be.” A giggle erupted from her mouth as he suddenly hoisted her into the air and deposited her in the sleigh’s cab, positioning her so that she came to rest at the edge and slipping off her panties with startling efficiency.

He pushed his way between her legs, letting them rest over the shelf of his broad shoulders as he kissed his way up her inner thighs until she squirmed uncontrollably. His hot breath against her skin sent streams of desire pooling at her center.

“Finally, time to find out what you taste like,” he murmured against her. “What do you want me to do, Rowan?”

Rowan struggled to form a reply. She’d never been one to talk during sex, and the idea was strangely intimidating. Give voice to her desires? No one had ever invited her to do that before. “You don’t have to—” she began.

“Of course I do,” he said with a low rumbling noise. “Besides, I want to. Just like every other guy you’ve given a pass should’ve…” His tone softened. He said, “Back in the sauna. You said you wanted more to happen. Tell me about it.”

And then his mouth was on her—in her, really—and her words wobbled with pleasure as his tongue flicked and spun, but she did as instructed.

Her head filled with images as she narrated the peel of hot skin from hot skin, and the slow build of friction as writhing bodies slid along cedar planks over and over in steady thrusts.

His fingers joined his mouth, moving in and out at the exact rhythm of what she described.

He approached every move as an experiment, hurrying on from things that elicited no response and doubling down when he sensed quickening breath and tightening muscles. It was exactly the Gavin she knew—a careful study of her responses, finding what she needed and pursuing it.

Everything quickened—her breath, her pulse—and then her entire body clenched before delivering ferocious satisfaction. She dug her hands into his scalp, trying to let him know he didn’t have to do anymore, but he rode out the orgasm, traveling with her to completion.

She let go of him, laughing euphorically, and he finally released her and climbed into the sleigh, prowling over her body with dragging kisses.

He settled over her like a blanket, which was good, because when he wasn’t close, the chill set back in.

The garage was unheated and the only thing keeping them warm was the desire venting from their flesh.

As his eyes bored into her, she was back to being shy under his gaze. “Did you ever think you’d find yourself in a compromising position with Wacky Rowan Midwinter?”

“Yes.” The answer was firm. Her breath caught in her chest. He traveled closer.

“I thought about it all the time. Wasn’t great for my focus.

Must be how you beat me for top of the class,” he teased, nipping at that sensitive spot behind her ear and grinning proudly at the moan she let out.

But then his eyes darkened with intent as he focused on her chest. “I thought about this.”

He unclasped her bra, finally freeing her breasts and taking them in his mouth: first one, then the other, tonguing her nipples and sending the warm pool of desire in her center into a blaze.

“And this.” He kissed his way back down her body to her still-throbbing center, which erupted at his returning touch. “I don’t know why I never…”

He looked up, dazed, as if trying to solve a puzzle while knowing there were pieces missing. Her heart clenched at how exposed he seemed, and realizing that he was still fully dressed, she decided it was long since time for her to get to have her way with him.

Climbing to her feet, she pulled him along, then pushed him down onto the bench of the sleigh with a wink. When he’d settled, she climbed into his lap, wrapping her legs around him and coming to rest against the ridge of his erection, only thin layers of fabric remaining between them.

His hands went straight for her breasts, but she warded them off, chiding. “My turn.”

With an amused quirk of an eyebrow, he nodded, eyes dancing with anticipation.

Licking her lips, she pulled the sweater up over his head and tossed it to the side.

She ran her hands up his chest to peel away his undershirt, her fingers catching in coils of dark hair and over the hard shelf of his pecs as it joined the rumpled pile of clothing on the sleigh floor.

Her lips went straight to his chest. While his usual patience had melted away, she’d found the proper motivation to take her time.

She slid her mouth and hands along every ridge of muscle, her nose full of that sweet oakmoss scent and her tongue gliding to lick up the flavor of him, salty but also sweet with the season.

His hands tangled into her hair, his fingers tightening and a groan escaping from his throat as her tongue encircled his nipple. He bucked beneath her, reminding her how ready he was for her.

“Not yet,” she murmured. Unclasping his belt, she pulled off his pants to run her fingers along his ready hips and toyed with the edge of his boxer briefs before dragging them off too and then taking him in hand.

She fished the condom from their pile of clothing and slid it down his ready shaft, taking the excuse to toy her fingers over his velvety ridges and bulging veins.

“Careful,” he said, low. Tremors of pleasure passed through his body, and he removed her hand, taking her by the hips and pulling her in close so that they were belly to belly.

Staring into his wanting gaze, Rowan said, “What do you want?”

He reached up and pulled her hair off her shoulders so that it fell over his face in a curtain that shut out the rest of the world. His hands grazed her sides before resting on her hips, squeezing. “This. Just you, all to myself.”

With a quick shift of his pelvis, he plunged inside her, and Rowan buckled as she sank all the way to his base.

Slick. Ready. Hands gripping the back of the sleigh, her hips fell into sync with his; he bucked, she ground, and the world went hazy at the edges.

With every thrust, the sleigh shifted underneath them, scraping back and forth across the concrete of the floor.

This. This. This. Was all she could think. He was an answer to an unasked question. Nothing she’d have let herself hope for, but exactly what she’d craved.

With every arc of the back and tilt of the pelvis, energy pulsed through her, and she couldn’t help but remember the night of their reunion.

The first time the magic had forced its way past her defenses, she’d been with him, and then it happened again and again as tightly knotted parts of her came loose in his presence.

He unwound her in a way no one else had been able, or even tried, to do.

She buried her face in his neck, huffing his sweet earthy aroma, mouth filled with the brine of his sweat as she tongued and bit.

The noise that came out of his mouth at that moment was primal, and then he was lifting them both, so that she came to stand with one leg propped up high on the back of the sleigh as he held her hips fast from behind and drove himself in deeper.

The second her body clamped around him to send her climbing toward climax again, he sensed it and quickened, his thrusts growing hurried.

As they both drew close to the edge, she reached inside to the place where their vital lines had coiled and squeezed—hard—sending a gush of his energy throughout her body and doing the same to him.

The results were explosive, and they cried out at the same moment, flushed and writhing and letting everything go.

The power they’d raised released with them, traveling out as a wind that shook loose branches and kicked up whorls of snow from the earth. Every light in the festival grounds brightened in a flash, and the Yule Goat erupted into flames, even though the ritual torches had yet to touch it.

Lights blazed. Bonfire burned. And somewhere in the distance, an old man leaned against a staff wrapped in holly and chuckled. “Nearly time, then.”

His smile melted away, knowing that what must come next was necessary, but pitying the lovers all the same.