by Nina Lane
Ooo. Sinful.
Now that’s an idea I can get behind. Or better yet, under. Or on top of…
Chapter 2
Olivia
October 31
Oh, yes.
As I suspected, Professor West is one handsome devil. A devil who makes you want to commit all seven deadly sins…and then beg for more. A devil you’d follow to the ninth circle of anywhere and revel in whatever exquisite torments he bestows upon you. A devil who could lure even the purest of angels into temptation.
His dark brown hair, threaded with a few strands of silver, is slicked back from his forehead, emphasizing the masculine planes of his face and glittering eyes. His gorgeous body is clad in black trousers, a black shirt, and a red waistcoat that hugs his muscular torso. A red satin necktie slides as smooth as a blade from the knot at his throat.
With shiny black boots and a black cape that billows like a cloud behind him, Professor West exudes villainous sex appeal.
Sex appeal that is intensified by the hot way he’s looking at my breasts. He comes to a stop in front of me and slides one finger into my cleavage.
“Hmm.” His voice is a deep rumble of pleasure. “My little angel. I could do very dirty things to you.”
Oh yes, please.
“Very evil, depraved, wicked things,” he continues, stroking his finger deeper between my breasts and revealing the curve of my cleavage in a white lace push-up bra. “I could ruin you.”
“Well,” I say breathlessly, turning back to the mirror and adjusting the golden halo affixed to my hair, “then you’d better hurry up and get started.”
His eyes darken with heat as he rakes his gaze over my body, the gold-and-white chiffon gown that drapes over my curves and flows in a pool around my ankles.
Dean steps behind me and spreads his hands over my bottom as he lowers his head to kiss the side of my neck. Tingles wash through me, though I try to ignore them since we’re on a schedule here.
“You smell heavenly,” he remarks, rubbing his lips over my collarbone. “What else are you wearing under there?”
“Lace panties, a satin slip, and sheer stockings,” I tell him. “But you can see them all later.”
He mutters a noise of irritation, but straightens to adjust the gold-tipped organza wings affixed to my back. He looks again at my reflection in the mirror. He slides his big hand over my neck to the V of skin exposed by the bodice of my gown. My breath catches at the delicious friction of his touch, the effect of which is magnified by his captivatingly wicked appearance.
A sizzle of heat arcs between us, but before I can give in to it, a sliver of rationality reminds me of our schedule. I turn my head, meeting Dean’s mouth in a quick, hot kiss.
“I love you like milk loves cookies,” I murmur against his mouth.
He squeezes my ass. “I can’t wait to eat you tonight.”
I grin and move reluctantly away from him. I go into the bathroom to finish applying my glittery gold makeup. I pause to adjust my push-up bra, which has an underwire that’s chafing the side of my breast. Ah, well, it’s the price of sexiness I’ll gladly pay to indulge in the heat my husband and I always generate.
“Don’t forget your horns,” I call through the bathroom doorway. “They’re on the dresser. Your pitchfork is in the closet.”
I return to the bedroom and find him adjusting the horns on his head. The surprisingly realistic black horns only add to the full villainous effect of Professor Devil, and I experience a flutter of anticipation at the thought of what, exactly, he’s going to do to innocent little me later tonight.
I put my wallet and a few toiletries into a gold beaded handbag and slip my feet into gold sandals. Dean goes to corral Nicholas, and I head into Bella’s room to help her finish getting ready and to get her stuffed owl Hoot into the matching cupcake costume I sewed for him.
After a flurry of activity as we make sure everyone has their costume accessories, we pile into the car. Halfway down the drive, Nicholas announces that he forgot his eye patch, so Dean goes back to retrieve it. Then Bella has to go potty, which means removing half her costume. Guess I didn’t think that one through entirely.
By the time we finally get to the high school, the parking lot is already full, and Dean has to find a spot to park on the street. Costumed partygoers stream into the gymnasium. A sign over the door announces Mirror Lake’s Spooktacular Halloween Ball.
The inside of the gym is filled with black-draped tables, orange and black balloons and streamers, and a buffet table filled with covered dishes. A band onstage, the members all dressed like zombies, is belting out “Monster Mash” while princesses, ninjas, cartoon characters, and firefighters dance.
We greet a number of people, exchanging admiration about each other’s costumes, and find an empty table. Dean and I sit down to keep an eye on Nicholas and Bella as they run out to join the revelers on the dance floor.
“Mr. West!” Three children—a witch, a cowboy, and a ninja—run up to Dean as soon as they spot him. “Can you make a pumpkin?”
“I dunno.” He scratches his head and shrugs. “That sounds tough.”
“Can you try?” the witch begs.
Dean pulls the ever-present loop of string out of his pocket, holding his hands out as he winds the string around his fingers. The kids watch with bated breath as he performs a series of complex loops before holding up the final result—a pattern of diamonds surrounding a round pumpkin.
“Cool,” the ninja shouts.
“See if you can guess what this next one is.” Dean unravels the string and starts to wind it around his fingers in a new pattern.
He holds out his hands. The kids study the pattern stretched between his fingers.
“A tree.”
“A ladder.”
“I know.” The witch’s hand shoots into the air. “A witch’s broom.”
“You got it.” Dean gives her a high five.
“Can you come show my sister?” the cowboy asks.
“Sure.”
Dean gets to his feet, and the cowboy takes his hand to lead him across the dance floor.
“There you are.” Kelsey March weaves her way through the crowd toward me, looking almost unrecognizable in a black ponytailed wig, a slim-fitting black skirt, and a red shirt with a white, scalloped collar. “Archer wanted to get the baseball game booth set up in the English classroom, but he didn’t have the key.”
“Oh, I have it. Sorry, I forgot to give it to him.” I reach into my purse for the ring of keys the building supervisor had lent me for the party set-up.
Kelsey waves her hand. “It’s okay. He put it in the history classroom instead.”
“Does he need Dean to help set up the rest of the games?”
“No, it’s all done. Now he’s getting food, of course.” She glances toward the buffet table just as Dean and his brother start making their way toward us.
Archer looks both impressive and strikingly realistic in a sailor’s costume complete with a hat and an anchor tattooed on his muscular forearm. When he sits beside Kelsey, the Popeye-Olive Oyl effect is one for the books.
“Uncle Archer!” Nicholas races off the dance floor, then steps back and eyes Archer’s costume critically. “Who are you supposed to be?”
Archer slants Dean a narrow, disapproving look. “Your kid doesn’t know who Popeye is? What’s that about?”
“Hey, Nicholas, which medieval knight became the King of England in 1189?” Dean asks.
“Richard the Lionheart.”
Dean looks at Archer smugly.
“Yeah, that’ll really impress the chicks when he’s a teenager,” Archer mutters.
“Look who I ended up with,” Dean says, tilting his head toward me. “Being smart can score you the greatest prize of all time.”
“Knowing how to ride a Harley can score you a lot of…” Archer stops and glances at Nicholas, “…uh, ice-cream cones.”
“I totally want to learn to ride a Harley,” Nicholas
announces before darting back into the fray.
Archer stuffs a forkful of macaroni and cheese into his mouth, then realizes Kelsey is eyeing him with her laser-like glare.
“What?” he asks around the mouthful.
“Score you a lot of what?” Kelsey asks crisply.
Archer takes an inordinately long time chewing and swallowing before he shoots her a wicked grin.
“A lot of love from hot Professor Kelsey March,” he says.
She rolls her eyes, but a pink flush of pleasure rises to her cheeks. Since seeing Kelsey get embarrassed while wearing an Olive Oyl costume is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, I decide to add a little mischievous fuel to the fire.
“So,” I say conversationally, “why is it you two decided to dress as a married couple?”
“We’re not a married couple,” Kelsey says.
“I know you’re not in real life—everyone knows that by now—but Popeye and Olive Oyl were married.”
“No, they weren’t.”
“Sure they were,” Archer says.
“No.” Dean shakes his head. “Kelsey’s right.”
“Olive Oyl was torn between Popeye and Bluto,” Kelsey explains. “That’s why Bluto was always coming on to her. It was a classic love triangle.”
“What about the baby Swee’Pea?” I ask. “Wasn’t that Popeye and Olive Oyl’s baby?”
“Swee’Pea was an orphan left on Popeye’s doorstep,” Dean says. “But they weren’t married, and they didn’t have a kid.”
This is news to me.
“I don’t get it,” I say. “Why didn’t they get married?”
“Well, Olive Oyl was a fickle lass,” Archer replies.
“She was not,” Kelsey says. “She was just keeping her options open.”
Archer snorts. “Maybe she needed to make a decision already.”
“Maybe Popeye needed to be less of a buffoon.”
“Maybe Olive Oyl needed to be happy with what she had.”
“Maybe Popeye needed to realize how good he had it.”
“Oh, he did,” Archer says, looking right into Kelsey’s eyes. “Why do you think he ate all that spinach? He did it for her.”
He gives her a wink. A smile tugs at her mouth.
“So,” I interrupt brightly, before they lunge at each other and start kissing passionately, “who wants more punch?”
“Mom, we’re hungry,” Nicholas announces, as he and Bella come traipsing off the dance floor again.
“Come sit down.” I gesture to the two empty chairs. “I already got you both some food.”
“Uncle Archer, next year I want to go as a sailor too.” Nicholas climbs on a chair to examine his plate of pizza and fruit salad.
“Great,” Archer says. “You can be Pipeye.”
“Who’s that?”
“One of Popeye’s nephews. His other nephews were Peepeye, Pupeye and Poopeye.”
“Poopeye!” Nicholas dissolves into a fit of laughter.
“Poop peep poop peep,” Bella chants.
I push my chair back, indicating to Dean that this current situation is his to deal with.
“I need to go coordinate the staff for the game booths,” I explain before heading toward the doors.
Mirror Lake trick-or-treating starts at six, so we’d planned the Spooktacular Ball early enough for everyone to be able to enjoy the food, dancing, and games before taking their kids trick-or-treating. Later, there is a bonfire at Wizard’s Park and haunted train rides on the Mirror Lake Railway, which Archer and his crew finished restoring two years ago.
The volunteers and I get the game booths going, and the corridors of the high school are soon filled with children going from classroom to classroom to try their hand at ring toss and balloon popping. After an hour, an announcement comes over the intercom that official trick-or-treating begins in fifteen minutes.
The children swarm back to the gym, clutching plastic whistles and toy prizes. Dean and I find each other in the crowd and take Nicholas and Bella downtown where all the shops and restaurants are open for trick-or-treaters.
We traipse up and down the street for a couple of hours, then I leave the kids with Dean and promise to meet them at the bonfire. The high school is deserted when I return, but I need to break down the game booths and close up before returning the keys to the building supervisor.
I put the balloon-popping board outside the history classroom and close the door. As I’m locking it, two hands slide around my waist and pull me backward, right up against a very solid, male body.
“Give me a kiss, beauty.” Dean’s deep voice washes over my skin.
I shiver in response and turn in his arms—because that command is one I never can or want to resist.
I lean forward to press my lips against his, the gentle contact making me all soft and fuzzy inside. I twine my hands around the back of Dean’s neck and thread my fingers through his hair.
“It’s later,” he remarks, pressing his lips across my cheek to my ear. “Archer and Kelsey are taking the kids to the bonfire. I told them we’d meet them when we’re done here, though this might take quite a while.”
“Really?” I breathe. “You think it could take a while?”
“A very.” He kisses my ear. “Long.” He kisses my collarbone. “While.” He slides the strap of my gown aside and kisses my shoulder. “It’s just you and me now, baby.”
A flutter of excitement starts low in my belly. I turn my head to brush my mouth across his cheek, the sandpaper grain of his stubble delicious against my lips.
“I have to finish breaking down the game booths,” I say.
“Mmm, love that dirty talk.”
“Want to help me? You know how much I love watching your muscles flex and strain when you’re doing heavy lifting and…other things.”
I slide my palm down his chest, looking up at him suggestively from beneath my eyelashes. Heat brews in his dark eyes.
“What do I get if I help you?” he asks.
“My everlasting gratitude.” I pat his cheek and pull away from him. “And maybe something else later.”
“I thought this was later,” he grumbles as he follows me.
“Later later.” I open the door and usher him inside. “Tomorrow we’ll move the equipment to the storage garage.”
He grumbles a little more, but dismantles the plastic horseshoes game and piles the parts in the corridor. After locking the door, we move on to the chemistry lab where the beanbag toss is set up along the central aisle.
“Did you know I once won a beanbag toss at the Santa Clara County Fair?” Dean asks, warming up to pitch one of the bags.
“I didn’t know that. What did you win?”
“A stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh. I wasn’t happy. Especially when Archer started calling me Roo.” He pitches the bag, which hits the board with a thud.
“Looks like your skills are rusty,” I remark, loading the plastic prizes into a storage bin.
He frowns and picks up another beanbag. He tosses it through the ten-point hole.
“Okay, Mrs. West.” He steps aside. “Show me what you can do.”
“Yes, sir.”
He glances sideways at me, a spark of intrigue lighting in his eyes. The “sir” thing gets us both interested pretty quickly, though I question the wisdom of going there in the middle of a high-school chemistry lab.
I bend over to pick up a beanbag, feeling Dean’s gaze sweep over me. I straighten and pitch the bag. It goes neatly through the fifty-point bull’s-eye in the center.
“Hah!” I raise my fists in victory. “Olivia West, bean-bag champion of the world. Where’s my prize?”
“Right here.” Dean moves closer and strokes his hand over my ass.
“Really?” I ask dryly, turning toward him. “Isn’t that more like your prize?”
“Oh, you’re definitely my prize.” He slips his hand beneath my chin and tilts my face up to his.
Our lips meet in a warm, lovely kiss that tastes like
spiced apples. And even though we’re in a classroom on Halloween night, I feel myself tipping easily into that intimate space where the rest of the world fades into black and white, and where colors bloom like flowers around us.
I curl my fingers into the edge of Dean’s red waistcoat and urge him closer, deepening the kiss. Heat flares inside me almost instantly—kindled by our earlier flirtation and the smoldering glances he sent my way throughout the evening. I open to let him in, loving the way he slides his tongue over my lips and into my mouth, a possessive claiming that fires sparks through my entire body.
“This is so wrong,” I whisper, even as I nudge my breasts against his chest.
“I warned you I’d lure you into the evil pleasures of lust, my sweet angel,” he replies, moving his hands between us to cup my breasts
“We’re in a classroom,” I remind him in a vague effort to maintain a semblance of propriety.
“Mmm. A chemistry classroom.” He lowers his head to press a trail of kisses along the side of my neck. “We should experiment with electromagnetism. Maybe chemical bonding. Definitely some kinetic energy.”
“Or kinky energy.”
“Oh, yeah. That too.” He lifts his head to gaze at my breasts, then hooks his fingers into the bodice of my gown and pulls it down over my bra.
His breath escapes on a curse at the sight of my cleavage—which is especially pillowy and plump thanks to the push-up bra that I bought with a certain handsome devil in mind. I deliberately wore sexy lingerie beneath my costume with the expectation that Dean would enjoy taking it off me, though I’d envisioned this scenario in our bedroom later tonight rather than a high-school classroom right now.
“Wait.” I put my hands over his before he can make me lose my senses entirely. “Door.”
He releases me and goes over to make sure the door is locked. The windows lining the outside wall and the interior corridor are all shuttered, and when he turns back to face me, my breath stops in my throat.
He’s standing with his hands on his hips and his feet apart, his black cape framing his muscular body. His dark eyes glitter with both promise and lust. Wreathed in shadows, the light slanting through the shutters the only source of illumination, my husband looks both sinful and so arrestingly beautiful that my whole body flames with need.
