Fiends and Familiars - Debra Dunbar Page 0,38
I reached out and put my hand on Ty’s arm. To Antwan’s credit, he didn’t even raise an eyebrow.
“Well, game’s free for my favorite witch.” His grin stiffened a little as he glanced over at Ty, and the implication was clear. Mess with my friend, and you’ll know what it feels like to have a Great White bite your leg clean off.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed my club.
“His favorite witch?” Ty and I walked over to where the colored golf balls were. He didn’t sound jealous, or the least bit worried about the nonverbal threat he’d just been handed. I liked that. Jealousy was such a pain in the ass to deal with, and I wasn’t one of those girls who was turned on by two guys duking it out either.
“We’re all his favorite witches,” I told Ty. “All seven of us.”
He picked up a bright yellow ball and handed it to me. Had he known this was my favorite color, or was this just a lucky guess? As I took it from him, my fingers brushed his and I caught my breath.
“Seven? Your coven?” He picked up the red ball and it took me a second to realize what he meant.
“Oh no, my sisters. We’re all witches. I’m the second youngest.” I wasn’t sure if his type of fae had family units or not, and it seemed a bit rude to ask, so instead I shot him a cocky grin and strolled over to the first hole, placing my yellow ball on the X. “Get ready to lose, hound-boy. I’ve been honing my skills at mini golf since I was five, and I’m gonna beat the pants off you.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” he teased.
I tapped the ball and watched as it rolled up and down the fake green hills, weaving back and forth until it bounced off the backstop and into the hole.
“Booya!” I put my hands in the air. “Beat that one, buddy.”
He didn’t but came close, sinking the red ball in two strokes. We spent the next hour smack-talking, and flirting. Ty resorted to trying to distract me by running his hands down my waist to my hips, or whispering naughty things in my ear. It worked, but in the end I still won the match.
“Winner gets a kiss,” he whispered before turning me around and dipping his head.
His lips met mine, soft, warm, and gentle. Time seemed to stand still, then I moved into him and wrapped my arms around his neck. His tongue touched the seam of my mouth, asking even though I could feel from the tension in his body that he was fighting to hold himself back. I opened for him, and everything caught fire. His tongue licked mine and we pressed together, practically devouring each other on the eighteenth hole of the putt-putt course.
When we finally came up for air, I was breathless, hot, and desperate to have him naked and inside me.
“Let’s get out of here,” I whispered, well aware that a few of the other patrons were beginning to look our way. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but having an audience of six teens wasn’t my thing.
“And go where?” He turned me in his arms so my back was against his front, then nibbled down the side of my neck as he pressed my ass against that rock-hard erection.
I didn’t have the patience for driving all over town looking for a hotel, and I certainly didn’t have the patience for the thirty-minute drive into Accident. That left one choice.
“My place.”
He stilled, and for a second I thought something might be wrong.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Was he just being gentlemanly? Like the opening door thing? Or was I detecting a note of regret in his voice?
Before I could think further, he spun me around and kissed me again, driving every last bit of doubt from my mind.
The ride back to my place seemed excruciatingly long. He opened the car door for me and I fell into his arms. For a moment, I wondered if we’d even make it into the house, or end up doing it here on my lawn, but he pulled away with ragged breathing and yanked me toward the door. I barely had time to dismiss the wards and unlock the deadbolt before I was in his arms again.
Buttons popped and clothes tore. He pushed me back against the wall, knocking over a lamp and two picture frames along the way. I frantically tried to kick off