Magic at Midnight Read Online Free PDF Page B

fired.”
    Falon’s deep laughter followed him as he stormed to Genevieve’s table and plopped down across from her. Once again, her delicious scent enveloped him. He shouldn’t have instigated this, but now that he had he was helpless to stop.
    “What did you want to talk about?” She propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward, granting him another spectacular view. Sweet heaven above, she wasn’t wearing a bra.
    Had he suggested they talk? Perhaps a better suggestion would be that he shoot himself here and now and just get his death over with. “We’ve known each other a long time,” he began, fighting past the friction of sexual need working through him.
    “Yes.”
    “And we’ve never discussed—” What the hell was a safe, nonsexual topic?
    “Yes?” she prompted, grinning.
    Her teeth were two rows of pearly white perfection. And she had a dimple. Why had he never noticed it before? Probably because you’ve rarely given her a reason to smile at you, moron . He yearned to nibble on the delectable little morsel.
    “We’ve never discussed—” He paused yet again. The weather? No, he’d only picture her naked in the rain. Favorite places to shop? No, he’d picture her shopping naked. Favorite books? No, he’d picture her reading naked.
    Ah, hell.
    Is she worth your life? Now, this moment, he couldn’t say no so easily.
    “There’s got to be something you want to talk about.” She licked her lips, her pink tongue as lethal as any weapon of mass destruction.
    They could talk about taxes at this point and he’d be aroused. “I—how have you been doing lately?” he asked. He leaned as far back in the stool as he could, hoping distance would clear his foggy senses.
    “Good.”
    “How are your sisters?”
    “They’re good.” She tapped a finger to her chin, her oval nail glinting in the light. “Hunter, is there something else you want to say to me?”
    He tangled a hand through his hair. Hell, yes, there was something he wanted to say to her: get naked.
    How did she twist him into knots like this? He saw her, and he wanted her. He caught a whiff of her sweet fragrance, and he wanted her. He closed his eyes, and he wanted her.
    Is she worth dying for?
    He stared at her, watching the way shadows and light played across her lovely, serious little face. Watching the way hope flickered in her eyes, lighting the hazel to an otherworldly green.
    Before the night was over, he was going to have this woman’s thighs around his waist. Or head. He wasn’t picky. He was going to know what it felt like to touch her curves, to know her taste. He was going to know how her expression changed when she climaxed. The future be damned.
    Not giving himself time to consider the ramifications, he shoved to his feet and held out his hand, palm up. “Genevieve, would you please dance with me?”
    “Really?” Disbelief and awe rained over her face before she frowned. “You don’t plan to leave me in the middle of the song, do you?”
    His chest constricted. He’d done that to her on numerous occasions. In his defense, he’d become so aroused holding her in the curve of his body he’d had two choices: leave her on the dance floor or screw her on the dance floor. “We’ll dance the entire song. I promise.”
    Slowly she grinned. “Yes. Yes. I would love to dance with you.”
    The moment she placed her fingers atop his, his senses screamed with approaching danger. He ignored the warning. Here, in this moment, nothing mattered except cherishing Genevieve the way he’d yearned to cherish her all these many years.
    Was she worth dying for?
    Hell, yes.

• Three •
    O H, wonder of wonders, it had worked! The love potion had actually worked.
    Her hand in his, Hunter led her onto the dance floor. Where their skin touched, she tingled. He’d asked to do this; he’d even said please. She hadn’t begged—not that she would have. (Okay, she might have.)
    They stopped in the center of the floor, paused for a