Page 61 of My UnTrue Love
One second, she was in her own chair. The next, she was dragged onto his lap.
One second, she was shocked still. The next, her arms were around his neck, and she was kissing him back.
Bill groaned in pure, masculine satisfaction.
The smart play would be to keep the kiss simple. Gentle. He’d never seen Clem on a date. (If he had, the asshole would’ve been ripped to pieces, his body scattered like a cyclone victim in Oz.) He knew she didn’t have a lot of experience with men.Logic said to coax her. Unfortunately, logic meant fuck-all when you’re dream girl was pressed up against you.
Bill’s control snapped. He kissed Clementine the way he’d been wanting to for months. With frantic, wild hunger. Like he belonged to her. Like he was finally home.
Her lips parted for him, kissing him back just as desperately. Her fingers slid through his hair, so she could hold onto his head. He gave a low growl of approval. Or maybe his coyote did. They were one and the same and they were both loving this.
He sucked on her perfect, pouty bottom lip, his hands clenched around the fabric of her shirt, already plotting to strip it off of her.
She whimpered, rubbing against him.
The top nearly blew off of his head.
Someone in the hallway dropped what sounded like a set of gigantic cymbals. A reverberatingclangechoed through the building. Male voices bellowed. The noises of a fistfight breaking out. Someone shouted in pain.
…And the sexual haze that had fallen over the dressing room was ruined.
Clem gave a squeak of alarm and jerked back, nearly tumbling off of his lap. Green eyes were huge, as if she was astonished by what had just happened. The girl was not going to be taking her top off anytime soon.
Shit!
Bill barely suppressed a howl of frustration.
“I’m so sorry!” Clem scrambled away from him. “I didn’t expect that to happen. It’s usually a very innocent spell. Nothing that should’ve induced any lust. It didn’t when I kissed Johnny…”
“It wasn’t the spell.” Bill interrupted, not wanting to hear about her kissing Johnny. “It was you and me.”
She blinked. “You think my magic reacted to your innate artistry?”
“My what?”
“My God.” Her eyes widened. “You’re right! This reaction is probably a very important sign.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “Seemspowerfulimportant to me.” He licked the taste of her off his lips and knew his eyes were glowing.
Clem stepped closer to him again, unafraid that his coyote was stirring. “It’s exactly like those stories I was just telling you about. Where muses and artists blend their skills so perfectly, they shareeverything. The art those teams produce is epic!”
“Uh-huh.” Bill tried real hard to listen to her words and not stare at her pretty mouth.
“If you open up that emotional door to me -- all the way open-- maybe that could be us. Do you feel any different?”
Of course he felt different. He was harder than he’d ever been in his whole life and… Oh. Hang on. She meant because of the muse thing. “Not really.”
“Good.” She smiled. “That means my magic is already working.”
“If you say so.”
“Just be yourself. Let ideas flow and beautiful music play in your head.”
Bill rubbed the back of his neck and nodded like he actually believed he was going to have a flash of brilliance. “Sure.” He agreed.
…And began to plot how he could fake being inspired.
Chapter Thirteen
