Page 47

“Stop dripping!” Lucy scolded once the customer was headed in the right direction.

“Lucinda,” Grayson hissed, sparking with rage. He came around the counter toward her, and she backed up, both thrilled and afraid of the embers in his blue eyes.

When he was close enough, he took his jacket off and shook it at her. She let out a little scream, quickly shielding herself with magic.

“Phew.” She was still perfectly dry, while Grayson looked like he’d been left and forgotten in the washer overnight. He glared.

“He he he,” she laughed, quite pleased with herself.

Perhaps now was not the moment to gloat. Grayson growled, and the sound sent a current down her spine. His sage-green sweater had gotten wet even underneath his coat, and his hair was dripping water, which ran down the sharp contours of his face.

A drop of water touched his lips, slipping into his mouth, and she shivered.

He stepped closer, until she was backed up against the corner of the counter. He put his hands on either side of her, caging her in, the cedar of his cologne invading her lungs. Mmmm.

Her gaze went to his throat, where his pulse was throbbing, his neck glistening. Her heart pounded. She wanted to suck the rainwater off his skin.

He leaned closer, and inadvertently her back arched. She was so entranced by how blue his eyes were, how dark the blond of his hair was when wet. A drop of water fell from his hair, landing on her bare collarbone.

She shivered, body aching.

Then, he shook his hair out all over her.

She shrieked.

“You got me all wet!” she cried.

His eyes were a storm. He inched closer, until his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. She recalled the feel of his teeth on her bottom lip, the tug of his bite. Her limbs liquefied, desire spreading through her.

His breath was warm on her neck, her jaw. “Good,” he said, voice husky. “I like you wet.”

Lucy’s brain short-circuited. She wanted to grab a fistful of his sweater, bring her lips to his. Her body burned.

“Please be civilized,” she said, pushing him away with a hand on his solid chest. He grabbed her elbow, pulling her forward with him.

“You first,” he said, mouth slanting into a smile.

His clothes were cold, but she felt the warmth of his body radiating toward her. She itched to bring his body against hers, to let him feel just how wet she could get.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, and he tracked the movement, lids heavy. He stepped closer until they were almost touching, his chest heaving as he breathed.

She couldn’t remember what they were fighting about, couldn’t remember anything, really.

Just that she needed to get away from him before she did something catastrophic like spread her legs for him in a bookstore full of customers.

Lucy stomped on his foot with her fur-lined boot. He yelped, letting her go, and she rushed past him, blowing out her cheeks. She went to hide behind a bookshelf, where she used magic to dry off, though certain areas remained resolutely unchanged.

Her heart beat violently against her chest. Catching her breath, she squeezed her legs together.

“Get ahold of yourself, woman,” she scolded, smacking her face.

Lucy snuck a peek out from behind the bookshelf, gaze unerringly finding Grayson. God. It really was unfortunate how he looked like he could play a prince in a trashy historical drama show. She had a feeling Grayson Crawley could do some excellent R-rated things to her.

Just the thought made her dizzy.

Time to text Bia!

I want to bite his arm