Will lifted up her hips and brought her down onto him with one smooth motion. Charlotte couldn’t have even explained what exactly happened to her panties. Somehow they were sideways, enough out of the way to accomplish the primary goal, which was him deep inside her. She let her head drift back as he lifted up into her, the angle pressing his pelvis into her clitoris in a frantic tease. Charlotte lifted her hips and slammed down onto him, meeting him thrust for thrust, frenzied and determined. She needed it hard, needed to feel all of him, needed to take them there together.
So much for slow again. Will figured maybe eventually they’d get there, in about a year. He just wanted Charlotte too damn much to have any sort of patience whatsoever. She seemed to feel the same way, given the way she was bucking up and down on him, her breasts brushing against his chest, her ass soft and sexy on his thighs. When she came, Will thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She was so honest in her appreciation, her cries loud and unrestrained, her eyes rolled back, her fingers gripping his skull.
Her convulsion jerked his head back, and that was all it took to make him join her. Will pulsed into her, straining, holding her at the waist, wanting her still so he could fill her as completely as possible. It had some solid staying power, and Will finally collapsed back against the sofa and let out a little laugh.
“Was that quick enough?” he asked, blinking hard to focus on her.
Her skin was shiny and pink from exertion and pleasure. “That was perfect.” She grinned and leaned forward to kiss him softly.
Will stroked her back lazily. Then heard a car door slam. “Uh, sweetheart, I think someone’s in the drive.”
She leapt off him with a dexterity that was impressive, tucking and adjusting and pulling her jeans back on. Will did the same and he was just slipping back into his jacket when they heard the front door open and giggling.
“You can see my new thong,” a female voice said.
Uh-oh. Will knew that voice. He darted a glance at Charlotte, whose face had lost all the flush from their lovemaking and every other ounce of color.
Abby and Brady Stritmeyer came into the room, laughing and kissing and pawing at each other’s clothes.
“Abigail Murphy!” Charlotte said, her voice filled with horror.
Abby’s head snapped up and her eyes went wide. “Charlotte?” she said in a tiny voice.
“Shit,” Brady said, quickly pulling Abby’s shirt back down.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Charlotte asked.
Will figured that was obvious, but he kept his mouth shut.
“The, uh, movie sucked, so we left halfway through. Brady’s grandma owns this house, so we came to talk.” Abby was blushing, but she was also holding her arms crossed over her chest defiantly. “I don’t have to be home until midnight. What are you two doing here?”
“I’m buying this house,” Will said. “I wanted Charlotte’s opinion.” And her body, but that was irrelevant. “And I wanted to ask her to marry me, so I did.”
Abby dropped her arms, defiance disappearing. “Are you serious? Ohmigod! That rocks, Will!” She ran to her sister and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Did you say yes? Tell me you said yes?”
Charlotte smiled and accepted her sister’s hug. “I said yes.”
Then Abby was squealing in delight, so Will took the opportunity to sidle up to Brady, who shot him a wary look.
“Congrats, man,” Brady said.
“Thanks. And keep in mind I’ll be Abby’s brother-in-law. And I’m a cop. I carry a gun.” Then he smiled at Brady. “Just a friendly reminder.”
“Got it.”
“What is going on here?”
Bree joined the party, looking annoyed and cold, snow all over her feet, shod in impractical open shoes, her skirt hovering somewhere around her knees. It wasn’t the best choice of outfit for December, but Will didn’t think Bree went in much for practical. Stubborn was more her style.
“What are you doing here?” Abby asked.
Will was wondering the same thing. When he’d brought Charlotte to see the house, he hadn’t expected they’d be throwing a housewarming party in it that night.
“I saw you and Brady drive past the house, and since you were supposed to be at the movies, I wanted to know what you were doing here.”
“You followed me?” Abby frowned. “You so need a life.”
Bree glared at her little sister, and Will saw the whole conversation going bad places. He slipped his hand into Charlotte’s and pulled her by his side. “I brought Charlotte here to show her this house because I was thinking about buying it.”
Bree blinked, studying him. “You’re going to, aren’t you? I feel all these weird happy waves from you, and…” Her mouth dropped. “You and Charlotte had sex, didn’t you? I can sense it.”
That was kind of disturbing. He didn’t think he wanted Bree sensing it every time he and Charlotte got busy. But since Charlotte was now blushing a violent red, he figured it was obvious anyway. He said, “Charlotte and I are buying this house together. We’re getting married.”
Damn, that felt and sounded so good when he said it. He was having happy waves. Big ones. He pulled Charlotte even closer and wrapped both his arms around her. He never wanted to let her go again.
“Charlotte, is he serious?” Bree asked.
Charlotte looked at him and Will felt his breath catch. There was no mistaking the look she was giving him—it was tender, filled with love, and edged with lust.
“Oh, yeah, he’s one-hundred-percent serious.”
And she kissed him right there, in front of her sisters. Which, for Charlotte, was a serious sign of affection.
He whispered in her ear, “How powerful a witch do you think you are? Can you make them move right out of this house? I want to work on your lust spell some more.”
Charlotte pulled back and gave him a saucy smile. “I can handle this.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You all need to leave because Will and I want to be alone.”
That worked.
Seven
A WEEK LATER CHARLOTTE FIGURED LIFE DIDN’T GET ANY better. She and Will were hosting a Christmas party in the gray house and they were surrounded by family, food, and holiday music. They’d made an offer on the house and were set to close in a few weeks. Jessie Stritmeyer had happily agreed to let them have their first Christmas party in the house, despite not having moved in yet, and she’d even given them their first housewarming gift—a rather obscene-looking cactus.
Charlotte’s mother was chatting happily away to Will’s mother, who had come back from Florida for a week to celebrate Christmas. Mrs. Thornton, bless her heart, actually seemed interested in the running commentary Charlotte’s mother was delivering on her haunted prison tour adventure, complete with cold spots and rattling manacles.
Abby reached around Charlotte for the cookie tray resting on the coffee table. “These rock.” She bit the head off a blue frosted angel and chewed.
“Thanks.” Charlotte had baked six dozen cookies in a sort of love, sugar, and sex high after she and Will had spent a rather industrious morning getting to know each other just a bit better. Yet again. “Nice T-shirt.”
Her sister grinned. “It’s Christmas themed.”
It was, but somehow Charlotte didn’t think a shirt that featured Santa being enthusiastically whipped by his reindeer was really traditional in the truest sense. Charlotte sank back into the sofa and watched Will, her father, Mr. Thornton, and Brady Stritmeyer inspecting the door in the dining room that led to the backyard. She heard them tossing around thoughts like installing better insulation, a new track, and a dead bolt. They were in collective man heaven inspecting the house and laundry-listing all the repairs it needed.