Page 6 of Head Witch in Charge (The Sherwood Witches #2)

Erik…

I have no idea how I managed to last as long as I did at the poker table.

I folded on a full house because LeLe was toying with the thin strap of her low-cut green dress.

Then there was the time I called on nothing but a pair of twos because she was reapplying lipstick.

If she had touched her hair at all during the poker game, I would have magicked the rest of the room into oblivion just to have her to myself.

Now I did.

Sort of.

We’re in the elevator, and it’s taking its sweet time going down to the lobby.

Despite the others crowded in with us, everywhere I look in the mirrored walls, all I can see is LeLe.

I don’t even have to work to see through her camouflage spell at this point.

To me, she’s exactly as she is—full curves, red hair, one blue eye, one green eye, and an attitude that says dare you .

Fuck do I want to dare.

She turns toward me and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she looks me over.

I’ve been looked over a lot in my life. Women and men both love a taste of bad boy now and then.

It’s not about me—it never is—and I’m okay with that.

Everyone walks away satisfied, they have a fun story to tell their friends, and I have a new piece of insider information or bit of gossip that can be used for my benefit later.

It’s never about feelings or love or anything as unnecessary as all that. Sex, like life, is transactional. The sooner you understand that, the better off you’ll be.

So what does LeLe want from me? She doesn’t know I’m a Svensen—unless, of course, she came to Vegas prepared to violate the resort’s rules about seeing through camouflage spells.

I don’t buy it though. A con always knows a con.

She’s too soft and hopeful for that. All that do-good optimism comes off of her in waves.

Yeah, it’s tinged with a ribbon of frustration and a tempting thread of badness just begging to be pulled to see her come undone, but it’s right there in her aura: my girl LeLe is one of the good ones, more’s the pity.

It’s gotta suck to go through life as a sucker.

“So tell me, Erik Phillips,” she says as she winds one thick strand of wavy hair behind her ear, “why do I get the feeling that you aren’t exactly as you present yourself to be?”

Huh. Maybe there’s more to LeLe than a gorgeous face and an ass worth going to war for.

“It is Vegas,” I tell her, not meaning for my gaze to drop to those cherry lips of hers, but they’re like a tractor beam. “Isn’t that part of the fun?”

She smiles, revealing the dimple in her left cheek. It’s off-center and a little crooked in a way that shouldn’t be sexy but is.

“I suppose that depends,” she says, moving a step closer so we’re both tucked into the back corner of the elevator.

Yes, there are other people in here with us as we inch our way down, but it doesn’t feel like it.

My magic keeps waking up inside me without me calling it, peeking out at LeLe and basking in the warm donut smell of her magic, which seems to be doing the same thing.

I’ve heard about this kind of connection before—usually it’s just in my sister Sigrid’s romance books, but there are old stories handed down from one generation of witches to another.

It’s all bullshit, of course. What we have here is a mix of pheromones, the hedonism that Vegas brings out in people, and the excitement of something new.

“Are you,” she goes on, her dimple getting deeper as her teasing grin gets bigger, “a serial killer planning to wear me as a skin suit?”

“I’m more of a jeans and T-shirt guy.” I dip my head down so my lips are temptingly close to the curve of her ear. “You’re not planning on wearing me as a skin suit, are you?”

She gives her head the slightest shake. “I can’t sew.”

“That’s a relief.” I pull back before I do something stupid like kiss her in a crowded elevator or smell her hair. “I’m just taking you out to dinner.”

She purses her lips in a mocking frown. “Just?”

“That depends on you.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans to keep from reaching out and touching her because I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop once I start, strangers surrounding us or not. “I did say you could have whatever you want.”

“Good,” she says. “I’m really in the mood for a cheeseburger.”

The L lights up above the elevator doors as a bell dings, announcing our arrival. Thank the fucking fates. “The resort has a great burger joint on level three.”

“I don’t know,” she says when the doors open and the people in front of us walk off the elevator, squeezing through the crowd waiting outside the now-open doors to get on and go up to the higher floors. “I’m in the mood for room service.”

I don’t need to think, my magic just responds.

Before the last person steps into the lobby, the scent of fresh-brewed coffee spills out from the elevator.

Everyone waiting to get on gets a momentary confused look on their face before they wander off, talking to one another about how they suddenly changed their minds about going up.

LeLe and I stay in our spots in opposite corners of the elevator as the doors close, anticipation and awareness making the air electric.

“I like how you think,” LeLe says, and then waves her fingers and sends a shot of warm donut scent into the air before the elevator’s already unhurried pace grows slower as it climbs back up toward the top floor.

“The feeling’s mutual.” My gaze goes to the thin strip of fabric curving over her shoulder and holding her dress up. “You were very distracting during the poker game. Teasing me with your strap wasn’t nice.”

“Oh, you noticed that?” She brushes her fingers over the bit of fabric in question, pushing it off her shoulder. “Oops.”

My mouth goes dry and I can’t look away. The top of her dress on that side clings like a rock climber to the tip of her nipple. A deep breath, a small movement, a barely-there sigh would send it sliding down, revealing the rest of her. I can’t look away, which is very much not part of my plan.

My plan is simple:

One—Arouse her curiosity.

Two—Draw her in.

Three—Walk away but linger in her mind so that when we continue to accidentally-on-purpose cross paths, it’s almost as if she willed me to be there.

That’s how it’s supposed to go.

I’m not supposed to be the one being seduced.

And yet, here I am, ready to drop to my knees if she only asks.

Now that sounds like a good idea, the perfect idea, the best idea I’ve ever had.

Before I can even think twice, I’m across the elevator in front of her, my fingers hovering in the air above her shoulder, almost touching her skin where her strap was.

“Can I touch you?” I ask, unable to stop the request from coming out of my mouth.

“Yes,” she says with a sigh.

“Where?” Ground rules, I need ground rules or I’m going to get lost in this woman.

Her eyes darken with lust. “Everywhere.”

I’m not normally one to deny myself when tempted, but I can’t stop myself from talking even though I know it will fuck up my plan. “You were right before, I’m not who you think I am.”

She chuckles as if to say, no shit . “Who out there is exactly as they present?”

“LeLe—”

She cuts off my last desperate attempt not to be as much of an asshole as I know I am with a touch, pressing her palm against my chest as she leans forward and lifts herself up onto her tiptoes, not stopping until she’s millimeters away from my mouth.

“I don’t care who you are outside of here,” she says. “For once in my life, I just want to forget about everything out there and just be right here in the moment. Can you help me do that?”

Forget talking.

Forget breathing.

Forget the plan.

I can deal with all that later; what I need now is her. “I’m going to kiss you.”

She takes my hand and brings it up to her full breast, stopping just short of pressing my palm to her nearly bare skin. “I hope you’ll do much more than that.”

The last string holding me in check snaps, and I whisper a quick secretum spell to ensure the elevator’s security cameras glitch and that the elevator ignores all calls to stop its upward climb to board new passengers.

Yeah, it would be better for my plan if we’re caught, if whatever happens next lands at the top of WitchyGram’s trending topics, but my scheme is currently in shreds.

I can’t think about plots and cons when LeLe is looking at me like this, as if I’m the only one who can fix that delicious ache inside her.

Instead of tugging her dress the rest of the way down or sinking to my knees and pushing her skirt up so I can feast on her until she comes in my mouth, I snake an arm around her waist and turn her around so she’s facing the elevator’s mirrored walls.

There’s not an inch of space between us.

My hard cock is pressed against the upper swell of her ass and her back is plastered to my chest.

“I’ll close my eyes if you want so I don’t see, but look at yourself—your real self—like this.” My voice is so low, so tight with lust, I barely recognize it. “You’re fucking fantastic.”

Her eyes go wide with surprise. “But you’ll know who—”

“I already do.” I’m not supposed to be telling her this.

She isn’t supposed to know I know who she really is.

But what’s happening right now isn’t a part of any scheme.

This is outside of it, uncontrolled by it, and free of everything else there is in this world.

We’re just LeLe and Erik, nothing more, nothing less.

“I can see you, the actual you, the one who wants to let go of the responsibility and the expectations and the requirements.” I hook my finger around the strap of her dress hanging loosely against her upper arm, ready to tug it down and break whatever spell is keeping her dress up over her glorious tits, but not yet.

“It’s Vegas; if you can’t let yourself be a little bad here, what’s the point? ”

The urge to yank on the strap has me by the balls, but I can’t give in. This has to be all LeLe—the actual LeLe—calling the shots.

The air shimmers around us, and the scent of warm donuts fills the space before her reflection in the mirror changes to reveal Leona Sherwood with her signature red hair, freckles, and mind-blowing curves.

“Fuck, you are gorgeous.”

Or at least that’s what I mean to say, but all that comes out is a desperate groan, because her reveal spell also sends the one side of her dress that had been improbably clinging to her down, revealing her full, luscious tit topped with a pale pink nipple that’s hard and begging for attention.

There’s no way I can resist her, plan be fucking damned.