The Witch's Initiation. Elle James

tightened uncomfortably, he frowned. He was not getting bothered by this woman with enough attitude to overwhelm most men, no matter how sexy she was in that skin-tight sweater.

      He made it a strict habit to separate business from pleasure. No matter how pleasurable he had found her in the past. Despite the warnings going off in his head to refuse the assignment and run the other direction, Cal couldn’t stop his body’s reaction to her nearness. Certain parts refused to forget what it felt like to lie naked against her, to bury himself deep inside her warmth. “I need a cover so that we can talk and not raise suspicion. If you want my help finding your sister, you’re stuck with me as a boyfriend.”

      She opened her mouth and closed it before words could spew forth. Then she leaned across the wooden tabletop and rested her hand on his, squeezing harder than typical for a lover’s affectionate grip. “Understand this. I’m only tolerating you because I want to find my sister. So, don’t get in my way.” She tipped her head to the side and gave him a saccharine-sweet smile. “Am I clear?”

      “Crystal.” He turned his hand over and captured hers before she could withdraw. “I’m here to do my job. Either help me or go home. Understood, sweetheart?” His words were spoken in a deep, rich timbre, the tone soft and modulated like a caress. But the steely strength between the lines could not be missed.

      Her luscious lips thinned. “Look, you’re too pretty. Working undercover requires a detective who can blend in. Sorry, you don’t blend. Do they have any other agents they can send?”

      “No, I’m it. Besides, I’m the best.” He grinned, knowing it would set her off and added another jab, “So you really think I’m pretty?”

      Deme sighed and resigned herself to having biker boy as her connection to the police force. “Look, if we’re stuck with each other, let’s just keep in mind what we’re after. We’re here to find my sister.”

      “Naturally. Now, are you going to play nice and be my cover, or not?”

      That frown was back, crinkling the bridge of her nose. “Okay, but don’t get any ideas. You’re not my type.”

      “You made that abundantly clear last time we met.” With her hand still in his, he stood, bringing her to her feet. Then he tugged her hard enough to throw her off balance. The only place she could go was smack against his chest, again. “Besides, you’re not my type, either.” He pushed her hair behind her ear, thumbing her earlobe in a tender caress. “At least do a better job of faking that you like me.”

      The rigid line of Deme’s spine slowly relaxed until she melted against him, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt instead of pushing him away. One hand slid around his backside, where it found its way into the pocket of his jeans. Using a surprising amount of strength, she slammed him hard against her, his cock nudging firmly against her pelvis. At the same time, she reached up with the other hand and slipped it around the back of his neck, tangling in his hair. Steady pressure brought his mouth closer to her lips until they were only a breath away.

      She leaned close to his ear. “As your girlfriend, do I make you hot?”

      Did she make him hot? At the warmth of her breath in his ear, Cal’s cock jerked beneath his zipper and his hands clenched around her arms. He wanted her. Wanted to plunge his tongue into her mouth. He wanted to get naked and have hot, juicy sex with her. His body remembered hers in ways that would make a virgin squirm.

      Her lips dragged along his jawline until they reached his. For a moment she hovered over him, and then she pressed in for the finale, slanting her mouth over his, thrusting her tongue deep inside to slide across his. Her hips ground against his, teasing his engorged member, converting it to granite.

      As quickly as it began, it ended and she stepped out of his arms and reach. Her brows rose and she smiled. “I can fake it with the best of them.”

      For a moment, Cal breathed in and out. The teasing look in her eyes was enough to bring Cal back to his senses and stir him up all at once. Forcing a light tone into a voice he was sure would crack, he said, “That’s more like it. I’ll see you tonight. Your room.” With that, he left, inwardly cursing his momentary loss of control. Deme Chattox was a prop to get his job done. A prop, damn it. Anything they might have had in the past was just that…in the past. He was in charge of the inside investigation.

      Once outdoors, he slipped his helmet over his head and fastened the buckle. As he slid onto the seat of his Harley, he could imagine sliding into Deme. He kicked the starter and the engine roared to life, rumbling beneath his still-hard cock. Oh, yeah, Deme Chattox was a hell of a ride. But that wasn’t the point.

      From the moment he’d stepped into the student commons, he’d been drawn to her. Irresistibly. He’d had no intention of making her agree to be his girlfriend in order to provide himself additional cover for his investigation. Hell, he’d half convinced himself he could do the job without her help altogether. She could go home for all he cared.

      Then what the hell had come over him? The idea was for Deme to help his investigation by infiltrating the Gamma Omegas, but at this point, Cal feared her presence would only distract him, in more ways than one.

      He’d better get his mind in the game instead of on the sexy redhead he’d wanted to toss across the nearest table and make love to in front of God and everybody.

       Chapter 3

      Deme dumped her backpack on the narrow bed tucked against the wall in the tiny dorm room, the echo of her sister’s cry reverberating through her. Having met with Detective Cal Black hadn’t set her mind at ease, not when her lips still burned from his kiss. If anything, her meeting with the cop had left her more shaken than she cared to admit. Her overwhelming attraction to him couldn’t be natural. Not after their breakup over a year ago. Something wasn’t right.

      Her aversion to the man had a basis. Every time she was near Cal, she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus, couldn’t even claim every thought coming from her head was her own. He infiltrated her mind, body and life in a way that left her off balance, her world in a perpetual tilt. She’d kept her relationship with Cal separate from her sisters, and her special “talents” secret from Cal. How would he react if he’d known about her propensity for magic? Would he think her a freak or crazy?

      Torn between the rampant lust raging through her body and her sacred duty to protect her family, Deme avoided his questions, dodging his desire to know more about her personal life. When he’d pushed to know more, she dumped his ass and moved as far away from Chicago as possible to avoid him and his overpowering magnetism. Once bitten by the lust bug, twice hesitant to make a repeat performance.

      From the start of their relationship, he’d been clear…He was dedicated to his job protecting the good citizens of Chicago. Nothing and no one would get in the way of his work. He took his responsibilities seriously. He demanded as much passion in his work. And he demanded full disclosure from the people he let into his world. Namely her.

      Cal Black was exactly the kind of man Deme didn’t need in her life, even if he was there to help her find Aurai.

      She crossed to the one small, dingy window and set the ceramic pot containing her beloved angelica root in the meager sun, distorted by the aging glass. The plant drooped, the colors appearing dull in the dreary environment. Deme empathized with how the plant felt. She, too, needed the light to flourish and chase away the emptiness. She touched the fragile stems and they seemed to brighten and reach upward. A ghost of a smile curved Deme’s lips.

      “The girls are usually pretty good about obeying curfew. I’m sure you’ll have no troubles keeping tabs on them.” Dr. Diane Masterson entered the room behind her and gave the space an appraising glance. “It’s not much, but I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

      “Thank you.” Deme faced the college president. “I’m sure I will.”

      “I’m so glad you chose our school to complete your degree. We needed an older student as a resident assistant. If nothing else, the girls will have a mentor,