I nod in acceptance, hoping I never need to call in the favor. If my demons of destruction aren’t powerful enough to help me, then I’m in deeper shit than the witches can handle.
When we reach Kellen’s closed office door, I brush past Slater to push it open. The last time I came here, one of Kellen’s old flings was trying to convince him to pick up where they left off, and I half expect to find another desperate woman here, touching what’s mine. But the office lays empty except for my delicious storm demon, who glances up from his desk, a phone pressed to his ear.
He beckons me in, and Slater closes the door quietly behind me to give us privacy.
I glance around his office, eyes stopping for a moment on the black leather sofa against the right wall. I have fond memories of that sofa.
As I walk toward his heavy wood desk, I smile with appreciation at the scorched wood at the center, suspiciously in the shape of a woman. I have fond memories of his desk, too.
Kellen murmurs into the phone, makes a note on the laptop in front of him, and hangs up. He swivels his chair around to face me. “You look lovely tonight.”
I sway my hips to send the short, steel-colored skirt dancing. I picked out the dress last time I went shopping with Tally. The dye-job leaves lighter and darker patches of color, like a storm cloud, while metallic dots of silver catch the light. When I saw it, it instantly reminded me of Kellen.
His eyes dilate as he licks his lips. “If you keep doing that, we won’t make it to the dance floor.”
I take in the dark slacks and button-up blue shirt he wears. The material hugs his leanly muscled form and accentuates the fiery red of his hair and the gold of his skin. He tempts me as he always does. I could spend the entire night tracing every curve and dip of his body with my tongue and revel in the experience.
But that would defeat the purpose of our date tonight.
“Delicious as you look, I’m here to dance.” Reaching out a hand, I wiggle my fingers at him. “Are you going to be my partner, or do I have to find someone else?”
A growl of thunder rolls from his throat, and he takes my hand, static snapping against my palm. “No one touches my woman.”
“Oh, yeah?” I tug him toward the door. “Prove it.”
Out on the dance floor, Kellen pulls me against him, his large hands on my waist, brushing the upper curve of my ass as we dance. Others move around us, but his lightning-kissed eyes stay focused on me, as if no one else exists in the club. Just us and the music.
It’s a heady sensation, to have the full weight of a storm god’s attention, and I wrap my arms around his neck, my body liquid against his. We fit as if made for each other, his hard muscles a cushion for my breasts, the dip in my stomach a home for the hard cock that rubs against me.
The strobe lights that flash around the dance floor leave us alone, as if aware that the way our bodies move together isn’t meant for the entertainment of others.
Music pulses around us, heavy on bass, and the vibrations finding an echo in my bones, like thunder lives inside me. An answering thunder comes from Kellen, a low-level thrum that lifts the small hairs on my arms, waiting for the strike of lightning.
Kellen’s head dips, his lips tracing sparklers across my forehead, my temple, my cheek, before he finds my lips. As his mouth opens over mine, my arms tighten around him, eager for the heat of his tongue, for the lick of ozone and thunderclouds that come with the slide of his tongue.
I taste rain clouds and heat lightning before he pulls back with a groan, his eyes sweeping the crowd. “There are too many people here.”
I rise onto my toes to kiss the underside of his jaw, enjoying the soft prickles of stubble against my lips. “Or there’s exactly the right amount.”
His hand slips down to my ass. “You’re in the mood to torment me today, aren’t you?”
I nibble on his chin. “I believe it’s called foreplay.”
When a grin tugs at his lips, I pull him down to kiss the laugh lines around his mouth, then dance away before he catches me in another kiss. If we