Luke
Damn.
My mouth fell open a little, and the rest of my body jolted with a surge of lust when Sage and her family walked through the gated entrance to the Mason Haunted House.
Held at the old Mason Mansion on the fringes of town, the haunted house was a favorite with locals during the spooky season because it was a twenty-one and over activity.
Rows of alcohol vendors lined up right to the front door, and each ticket to the haunted house came with two drink vouchers. They didn’t just want you scared inside the decrepit and devilishly decked out mansion, they wanted you shit-faced, too.
Which was good for me because Fantasy Brewing was one of those tents.
I’d been expecting a collection of Harry Potter characters again. After being friends with Callan for so long, I knew about the whole Halloween costume tradition and how Sage always picked personas from her favorite classic. But this year, she’d switched it up.
It was hard to miss Rose and her sparkly red shoes as Dorothy alongside Mike dressed as a very brawny Tinman, and then Callan as the scarecrow.
But Sage…
Her black gown might’ve made her fade into the background if it hadn’t been for the bold streaks of lime green on the round puffy sleeves, on the small tie around her waist, and on the inside of her cape; and because it was Sage, she’d even changed the laces on her black boots to match.
She tipped her head to talk to her cousin who was dressed in all pink as the Good Witch, drawing my attention to her face, and I couldn’t stop from smiling.
If the pointed hat resting on her pulled-back blonde curls didn’t give away her Wicked Witch character, her full face paint did. Her eyes and smile were bright against the green paint masking her pale skin, bringing a kind of vibrant life to her character that the Wicked Witch I remembered from the film never had.
But there was nothing wicked about Sage Walker except the way I wanted her.
She laughed, and my gaze lingered on her mouth.
If memories of the taste of her were all it took to make a man drunk, I would’ve been unquestioningly declared a Sage-aholic days ago.
We hadn’t had a chance to talk about that kiss at all since Saturday night, and I knew without a doubt that, in spite of work and other obligations during the week, she’d been avoiding me.
But that ended tonight.
I watched Callan turn and say something to her, making her laugh harder and press a hand to her chest.
A bolt of lust staked through me, and I gripped my fake wand a little harder, grateful that the dark robes of my costume were loose enough to hide the reaction of my lower half.
Stepping out from behind the Fantasy Brewing table, I nodded to Kenny, who was handling tonight’s shift for me, and made my way over to the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.
A small smile tugged up the corners of my lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Wicked Witch of the West,” I drawled nice and slow just as I approached the group, claiming Sage’s attention from Callan.
She did a double take when she saw me—black garb, wooden wand, and a noseless mask—and pressed a hand to her chest.
I did my damnedest not to let my gaze drift to her chest, but I was only a man. And it would’ve taken the magical strength of the warlock I impersonated to not look at where the pale swells of her tits strained against the neckline of the dress. The costume wasn’t made for a woman with perfect full breasts. And I was selfishly glad for it.
“Luke?”
My smiled widened at her surprise, even more adorable because her face was green.
“Should’ve known Sage would somehow sneak in a Harry Potter cameo tonight,” Callan drawled with a wide smile, clapping me on the back in greeting.
In another minute, all the greetings were done except for Sean who’d just rolled his eyes at me—not in costume himself—and turned his focus to Sage’s cousin, Donna. Then everyone split up to use their drink tickets before it was our time to enter the house.
“Voldemort.” Sage’s eyes slid to mine, swirling with a mixture of wariness and want.
“Shall we?” With a tipped grin, I extended my elbow.
She hesitated but then slid her hand into the crook, holding on to me gently.
“Very sneaky of you, Mr. Chambers,” she murmured, allowing me to lead her toward the Fantasy tent.
“You asked for him, Miss Walker,” I reminded her, dipping my head closer to her and adding with a huskier tone, “And I aim to please.”
I felt her slight tremble at my words as we stopped in front of the Fantasy tent, and I handed her a cup of cider, noting the way she took a sip immediately.
“Had I known you were going to dress up, I could’ve ordered you a monkey costume,” she offered sweetly.
“I assumed you would be doing Harry Potter again,” I confessed, tapping my wand on the side of my robe as we continued to walk. “But I can’t say I’m disappointed. The Dark Wizard and the Wicked Witch do make a good pair.”
Her throat bobbed nervously, but she quickly shook it off, taking another drink and then asking, “The real question is, in a magical battle between the two of us, who would come out on top?”
My whole body tensed with a violence that there was no way she didn’t feel.
Who would come out on top.
With my view of her gorgeous tits, my mind immediately jumped to the fantasy of her riding my cock in her wicked costume.
“The Wicked Witch,” I rasped. “No question.”
She laughed and shook her head, and I quickly reached up to steady her hat before she lost it. “Seriously? No way. Not against Voldemort.”
I caught her chin in my fingers, her laughter fading as my gaze bored into hers.
“She would when she looks like you.” She shivered, and I tipped my head closer to hers, her green nose an inch from my noseless mask. “My pretty.” I’d thought to make the movie reference, but the words came out deep and husky, rumbling with the strength of what I felt.
Sage’s eyes popped wide, and my blood began to buzz. Like heat lightning crisscrossing through the sky, our gazes clashed with desire for several long seconds, though there was no outward storm to show for it.
I’d given a ton of compliments in my lifetime, but none had ever affected a woman the way they did Sage. And the heat of proud possessiveness was almost as strong as the burn of potent lust I felt for my pretend girlfriend.
And then her head jerked forward and she declared, “You don’t need to say things like that.”
My jaw clenched.
“And if I want to?” My voice rumbled low, roughened from wanting her so damn badly.
Her lips parted slightly, but she refused to loosen her hold on the title staked to our relationship: Fake.
“You don’t.” Her eyes slid to the side, her shoulders slumping, and I caught our group of friends collected at the entry point, several of them, including Sean, watching us. “We should go inside.”
If Voldemort had nostrils, they would’ve flared right along with mine.
I was half tempted to wrap her in that damn cape and haul her over my shoulder, forget the haunted house, forget her family and friends, and take her somewhere so I could get to the bottom of this.
But she strode forward too quickly, her cape billowing behind her, and left me staring as she led the group into the haunted house.
Once we were inside the old Victorian mansion and the front door shut, the ambient light from outside quickly disappeared. The shadows that haunted the walls were given off by wall sconces that were purposely marred and dirtied so the light coming from them was minimal.
Tucked into the crevices of the high ceilings were small speakers echoing eerie wind, haunting creaks, and the soft creepy laugh of a child in the distance.
There were several smoke machines purring underneath it all, creating a layer of low-hanging fog that clung to your legs and kicked up as you walked through it.
As we moved through the hallway and ventured into the adjoining rooms, I could tell Sage was looking for anyone else to talk to—cling to—but everyone was already huddled together, splitting off in couples or as friends, and leaving the two of us trailing at the end.
“Sage—” My first attempt to get a word in with her was cut off by a zombie butler who appeared from one of the closed closets, scaring the whole group and sending Rose and her bridesmaids into a screaming fit.
Dammit.
Sage jumped too, clutching her hat before it toppled from her head.
“Rose is the worst,” I heard her mutter and chuckled to myself. “I don’t know why she insisted this had to be part of the events.”
With a huff, Sage veered from the group who was working their way from the living room back to the kitchen and detoured into the dining room.
There was no set path in the haunted house. Either way you went through the main floor led you to the back stairs and up to the next round of frights.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Rose burying herself in Mike’s chest, and the look on his face was the exact reason why Rose wanted this activity included.
And damn if I didn’t instantly wish Sage would turn to me like that. But apparently, her fake boyfriend was more frightening than the fake zombies the way she attempted to evade me.
“Hey, Luke.” Sage’s cousin dressed as Glinda stepped into my path. I angled my stance so I could keep an eye on my wicked witch as she got farther away from me. “Any chance I could hold on to your arm? I hate haunted houses.” She batted her eyelashes.
Shit.
I was struggling to remember her name, but when I saw Sean pull away from where he was talking to one of the other groomsmen, Danny, and follow Sage, I gave up trying.
“Actually, I’ve got to go save my girlfriend from an unexpected ghoul,” I ground out.
“She’s really your girlfriend?” If her tone didn’t give away her disbelief, the sneer on her face would’ve.
My jaw clenched. “What made you think otherwise?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes dropped. I had a hunch exactly who made her think otherwise.
“Well, maybe you can cling to his arm instead,” I suggested with a tight smile and then stepped around her.
Jogging, I caught up to Sean and grabbed ahold of his arm.
“I think Glinda the Good Bitch is looking for you,” I told him, adding pointedly, “I’ll take care of my girlfriend.”
He held up his hands and backed off. “Was just exploring a different direction,” he snarled, a violent expression crossing his face for a second.
Yeah, sure.
After clearing him out of the way, I strode back through the hall, smoke kicking up around my heels.
I made it into the dining room just in time to see Sage cautiously round the table in the center. I’d almost reached her when a young girl with fake blood all over her face jumped out from the other side of the table with a yell.
Sage screamed and spun right into me, my closeness scaring her even more and making her scream again.
“Just me.” I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. “It’s just me, Sage. I’ve got you,” I repeated, feeling her tremble against me.
The girl ran off to her next hiding spot and left Sage and me alone.
Neither of us moved—her because she didn’t want to provoke another scare attack and me because I didn’t want to fucking let go of her. It took several deep inhales to calm herself, and when she did, she shrugged out of my hold.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I hate the haunted house.”
My brow creased. “You’ve never been through here…” It wasn’t a question; I was remembering. She always came with her siblings because they would do the corn maze and meet up with friends, but I couldn’t remember a time when she’d gone through the house.
“Once,” she told me. “Twice now. But this time is going about as well as the first.”
I chuckled, leaning forward and closing the slight space she’d put between us. “Well, lucky for you, Voldemort knows where all the scary surprises are in this place.”
“Of course, you do.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure half the girls in school wanted to volunteer here just so they could jump you in the dark.”
Shit.
Not where I wanted this conversation to go—and there was only one way I could think to stop its spiral.
“And I didn’t want any of those girls half as much as I want you,” I said boldly. “Speaking of how much I want you, we need to talk about the other night.”
Her eyes bugged wide. “Now?” she squeaked and then shook her head. “Not right now.”
Turning, she walked back to the hall, the smoke settling thicker into the space since it looked like we were the only two left on the main floor.
“Yes, now,” I grunted and reached for her arm, slowing her down.
Her head snapped back and forth, anticipating one of the volunteers to jump out and scare her—or maybe wishing they would—and then faced me.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she insisted, brushing her palms on the front of her dress.
“Bullshit,” I whispered forcefully, ripping my mask up from my face to rest on my head so I could really look at her. “I kissed you. You kissed me back. And then you bolted.”
With an exasperated sigh, she stopped and spun to face me.
“And it was obviously all for show, so there’s noth—”
She squeaked when I grabbed her upper arms and turned her back to the wall.
“I don’t know what show you are talking about, Sage, but that night, there was only you and me—”
“And Sean.” Hurt rippled from her gaze.
“What?” I shook my head.
“Sean was there, that’s why you kissed me,” she explained. “And that’s why there’s nothing to talk about. It was a kiss for my ex to see, and it’s fine. It’s done.”
“Sage,” I growled her name, the noise so loud and low it echoed over all the other spooky sounds pulsing around it. “You think I kissed you because I knew Sean was there?”
I wanted to make sure I got this right, because when I fixed it, I wanted there to be no doubt that I didn’t give a shit whether or not that fucker was there or not.
Her chin dipped. “Of course. Why else would you?” Her voice became breathless and broke halfway through the question, piercing my heart with the truth about what she believed.
“Is Sean here now?” I demanded.
She blinked. “What?”
“Is. He. Here. Now?” I crowded her with each word.
I followed her eyes as they glanced side to side. I didn’t have to look. I knew the rest of the group was nowhere in sight.
“No.” Her throat bobbed.
“Good,” I clipped and slid my hand up to cradle her cheek. “Then there’ll be no mistaking why I’m kissing you this time.”
Her mouth parted, but I cut off her reply with the hard seal of my lips on hers.
God, she tasted so damn good.
And it only took a second before she melted into the kiss.
Groaning, I wrapped my arm around her and gathered her against me, using my other hand to tip her head. I teased my tongue along the seam of her lips and groaned when they parted like eager gates to the hot heaven of her mouth.
I knew I wasn’t mistaking the want in her eyes or the need in her kiss, and I was going to get to the bottom of her reason for not believing me.
But first, I was going to give her every reason to believe how damn bad I wanted her.
Just her.
Not for fake.
Not for fun.
Not for a fling.
I wanted Sage for everything.
I deepened the kiss, my chest rumbling with a low sound as I lost myself in the wicked magic of her mouth. Its warmth. Its honesty. Its boldness.
The way her tongue stroked along mine cast an inaudible spell on my cock, turning it to stone against my pants, heavy and aching for release.
God, she was perfect.
Threading my hand through her hair, I sent her hat tumbling into the fog at our feet, the gray mist swallowing it up and rising around us like a visible cloud of lust.
Sage let out little moans—small enchantments that made me lose my mind until I had her against the wall, my mouth working small kisses along her jawline to her ear.
“The only reason I kissed you is because I wanted to kiss you,” I rasped, pausing to flick my tongue over her earlobe. “No, needed to. I needed to fucking kiss you, Sage.” My teeth bit down on the soft flesh, making her gasp.
I slid my hand up from her waist, along her side until I reached her ribcage and the underside of her breast. A low hiss pierced my tight lips, the edge of my thumb grazing the thin shell of fabric binding the heavy weight.
She inhaled audibly.
“Luke…” Her voice broke apart like daffodil petals against the breeze, bouncing along the gale of desire that swept through her.
“I don’t just want to kiss you,” I told her, pulling my mouth back down to the dream between her lips. “I want all of you. Every perfect, magical inch.”
I ensnared her lower lip between my teeth, sucking on it until it was firm and swollen, before I took her mouth in a hard kiss.
I should be gentle with my best friend’s sister.
I shouldn’t be kissing my best friend’s sister.
But rational thoughts evaporated when she moaned and began to rock her hips against me.
“Fuck,” I swore loudly, pinning her to the wall and tighter to me, grinding my rock-solid, throbbing cock against her heat.
I’d been through this house plenty of times as a teenager—plenty of times with whatever girl I wanted to be frightened straight into my arms. But how I wanted Sage right now was worse than any fucking teenage hormones I could remember.
And I didn’t want her frightened into my arms, I wanted her locked in them willingly.
I shoved my tongue deeper into her mouth, sliding my hand higher until the weight of her tit overflowed my palm.
She was everything my dreams were made of.
And we needed to get out of here before I fucked her against the wall of the haunted house.
“Sage, let’s—”
“Arghhh!” A strangled inhuman noise came from right next to us as one of the male zombie volunteers clad in Victorian garb jumped out from around the corner, an unwelcome intrusion through our haze of desire.