Page 75 of The Midnight Frequency

There was the lingering trace of his cologne in the space, just enough to make my mind flash to the memory of his body pressed to mine on the dance floor, the way his scent lingered on me afterward. And how I caught myself trying to breathe it in for hours afterward.

I took a deep breath then as my fingers traced across his desk before I dropped down into his chair.

I hadn’t even gotten a chance to reach down and work the clasp free on my shoe when Silas was creeping inside the studio, his back to me, then quickly walking around to draw down the privacy blinds, immediately darkening the space, save for the single yellow light left in the ceiling fixture.

Finished with his task, he let out a huff.

Then immediately stiffened and turned.

“Maggie.” For someone who didn’t, you know, require oxygen, he sure had a way of making it sound like he breathed out my name.

“The witches spelled my office,” I told him. “And my feet hurt. Here,” I said, popping out of his chair.

His gaze slid from my face, leisurely tracing my body in a way that I swear felt like a caress, making each inch he explored warm.

“You look lovely.” He sounded choked, his voice small and tight.

“Oh, um, thanks. Tess dressed me. I’m her own personal Barbie doll. Not a fan of the party?”

“Thus far, a witch has tried to convince me that my heart line suggests I have recently met my soulmate, the stoner vampires cornered me twice, and that murder victim talked my ear off about the aughts, like I didn’t live through them as well.”

“Social battery is running low, huh?” I asked. I sat down on the desk and reached down toward my ankle.

“Allow me.”

He was across the room before I could object, dropping down to a squat in front of me.

There it was again, that delicious little flutter.

His hands went gently to both sides of my ankle, sending electric currents up my calf, thigh, higher.

My breath went quick and shallow, and warmth gathered low and heady as his fingertips slid along the band across my ankle. He worked the buckle free before sliding the shoe from my foot. My pulse was a sharp stutter as my thoughts dissolved to nothing but want and need. His hands slid to my other ankle. Everything about his touch was chaste, innocent by every stretch of the imagination. But my body didn’t care as desire ricocheted off every nerve ending.

Silas’s gaze flicked up from his knelt position, and my mind flashed with delicious possibilities.

“Better?”

A slow heat unfurled deep in my stomach as I gave him a tight nod.

“You’re trembling.”

Was I?

I hadn’t noticed. But that wouldn’t surprise me as I was drawn into the soft, dizzying pull of him.

“Are you cold?”

Cold? No. I felt like a fire was lit inside me, the flames flicking hotter with each passing moment.

“No.” My voice was whisper-soft, breathless.

I saw it the moment recognition hit. The slight widening of his eyes, the way his lips parted, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

His hand, still hovering near my ankle, settled at the lowest point of my calf, sliding intoxicatingly slowly up over goosebumped skin as he gained his feet, his gaze holding mine.

He didn’t need to use his compulsion powers. I was enchanted by nothing but the look in his eyes, by the quiet thrill of wanting, of being wanted in return.

Silas’s fingers teased the side of my knee, my other thigh, then moved up my hip, ribs, the side of my breast, making my breath stutter.