Page 44 of Love's a Witch
“But won’t people still be able to see it coming from the sky?”
“Then shoot the fake snow high in the sky.” Irritation sliced through me that he was so quick to dismiss my idea.
“Do you have any idea how many we’d need tucked around town just to keep up a fake notion that we actually planned this?”
“That’s not my department. That’s your job. Mine is to be the ideas person.”
“Well, your idea needs work.”
“So does your attitude.” I couldn’t believe he wasn’t even considering this. How else was he going to explain away the snow? “If you’re so smart, let’s hear your idea.”
I risked glancing at Knox and was rewarded when a scowl deepened the lines on his forehead.
“Ha!” I pointed a finger at him. “Seems Golden Boy doesn’t have a great idea.”
“Golden Boy? Please.” His scowl intensified, and I warmed to my subject.
“I call it like I see it, boyo. Mr. Prince Charming. The town’s golden boy. Saving everyone, women falling at your feet left and right. I bet you’re so used to being right that you don’t even know how to admit when you’re wrong.” I leaned forward, gleeful when I saw the light of annoyance flash in his eye. Hit a nerve there. “I’m right, aren’t I? Not only about getting the snowmakers in, but that you can’t admit when you’re wrong, can you?”
I should have stopped pushing.
Backed off.
Given the man some grace.
Yet I absolutely could not resist needling him.
I couldn’t say I was proud of that side of myself, but listen, we all have room for growth, okay?
“You know what I’m not wrong about, Sloane?”
“Very little, I’m sure. Just everyone’s too charmed by you to talk back.” I should have taken the warning in his tone to heart.
“This.” Knox reached out and grabbed my waist, pulling me across the couch so I straddled his lap. Shocked, my heart hammering in my chest, I drew in a breath to yell at him.
But his lips found mine.
Fire erupted inside me at his touch, his mouth claiming mine for his own. It was like all of the kisses I’d had in my lifetime had been on paper, and this one was 3-D and full of life, like his magickal scale model of Briarhaven had been. Knox did that. He ignited something latent inside me, bringing to the surface needs I hadn’t even known I had, and I gasped against his mouth. Holy hell, but the man could kiss. Clutching his shirt in my hands, I bore down on his kiss, opening my mouth for his tongue, and I almost melted on his lap when he tasted me, eradicating every kiss I’d ever had before from my memory.
Heat, everywhere, inside me—around me. Helplessly, I ground myself against him, riding his lap, wanting his body closer to me, in me, on me, around me. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t get enough of him, and my body was alive with need, screaming for more of his touch.
The scent of smoke teased my nostrils.
I wanted more. I wanted Knox, all of him, annoying ego and all. It was senseless, and ridiculous, and my feminist self would be annoyed with how I was melting into a puddle of lust over this man.
Wait—smoke?
Smoke.
Tearing my lips away from his, I whirled to see that the glorious golden velvet curtains had erupted in flames.
“No!” I shouted, leaping off Knox as he jumped from the couch.
My magick.
I’d done this.
My misfiring magick had somehow exploded his beautiful curtains in the most perfect room in the world, and he would never, ever, forgive me.
