Chapter Thirteen #3
Elle turns away from me, shifting into hostess mode. “Of course. I want Midnight Manor to feel like it’s your home as much as ours. If there’s anything you need, let one of us know.”
“Oh, I can’t…” I clear my throat against the sudden embarrassment. “I can’t keep up these sigils twenty-four seven. I’ll need to figure out a way to recharge the glasses without me. Until then…I can activate them during meals. Does that work, Laney?”
The teal-haired ghost shrugs. “Honestly, I’m easy. Don’t worry about me. I’m going to wander until dinner.” They turn and walk through the wall that leads into the dining room.
With Laney gone, I wipe the sigils from my skin and disconnect my magic from the ghost goggles, as Xander coined them last night. Elle studies me as I work, something unreadable in her expression.
“This is incredible,” she says finally, removing the glasses and setting them on the table. “I can’t believe…No, that’s not right. I can believe it. Because it’s you. Pippa, you’re absolutely incredible.”
“There’s still a lot to do,” I say, even as the passion behind her words makes my chest feel warm and buzzy. “Don’t get too impressed yet.”
“It’s too late for that.” Elle steps forward until she’s so close she’s forced to tilt her head back to meet my gaze. Her aventurine eyes are steady on mine as her hands settle against my hips. “I’ve been impressed with you from the moment we met.”
“Really?” My voice comes out breathy, and I reach out to tuck her hair behind one ear to see what happens when I touch her.
To see if she means this or if she’ll pull away.
Elle shivers as my hand comes to rest at her neck, my thumb tracing a path along her pulse.
Her hands slip from my hips to rest at my lower back, pulling me closer, our bodies flush, the heat of her making me dizzy with desire.
She bites her bottom lip, and a surge of wanting tears through me. I want to feel her lips on mine. I want to feel the pressure of her teeth against my skin.
And then, like I’ve summoned my dreams into reality, Elle is kissing me.
The first brush of her lips is soft and warm, but there’s not a hint of hesitation.
She captures my mouth like she already owns it, and fuck if I don’t want her to claim me.
I want it so much it burns. When she presses her tongue against my lips, I open them for her.
I shift the hand that’s still on her gorgeous fucking neck to the back of her head and thread my fingers into her hair.
She tastes like rich chocolate, with a hint of heat and cinnamon, from the brownie edges she picked at while I worked.
And beneath that, she’s hunger and need and sweetness, and when she draws my lower lip between her teeth, I lose every bit of restraint I have.
I kiss her deeper. Breathe her in. I stop battling the urges flowing through me and meet her hunger with my own.
The table screeches across the floor when we bump into it, but instead of startling away like I fear, Elle laughs. The sound is a magic all its own, and then she hops on top of the table, careful to avoid both the ghost goggles and the pan of brownies.
“I’ve imagined this so many times I’ve lost count.
” Elle slips her hands beneath the hem of my shirt, presses them against the curve of my spine to draw me in for another kiss.
From this position, our heights are equalized, and I can barely think through the haze of sensations.
The heat of her legs bracketing my hips.
The press of her hands into my back. Her soft lips hungry and hot and possessive.
Gripping her thighs, I tug her closer, delighting in the way she tilts her hips against mine.
Her body seeking friction. Seeking me. With each new reaction, each sign that she wants this, I grow bolder.
“If you had to guess,” I tease, pressing a series of kisses along her jaw, “how long have you wanted this?”
“Too long.” She gasps when I nip at the hollow of her throat, the sound melting into a moan as my hand slides up her thigh. “I’ve never wished my fingers were someone else’s until the night you bonded my hand to that game piece.”
“I wish you’d told me.” I kiss her again, pressing in a claim all my own. The idea that she reached for her own pleasure while thinking of me leaves me feral with desire. “Can I touch you now?”
“Please,” she says, her voice broken and needy and full of want.
I press my thumb along the center seam of her jeans. She groans as she arches into the pressure, but then the front door slams shut, and Elle shoves me away.
She slips off the table, frantically adjusting her clothes as Xander calls out to us from the foyer. She presses her hands against her flushed cheeks. “Please don’t say anything,” she pleads, smoothing down her hair and stalking across the kitchen. “Be right there, Alex!”
Elle offers me one final glance, but my brain is too full of static to read her expression before she hurries out of the room.
Leaving me with kiss-swollen lips and a confused heart, all alone in her kitchen.