Free Maximum Witch: That Old Black Magic, Book 3 by Jodi Redford

thought dead.”
    She remained aloof until her expression unexpectedly froze, his words registering. Triumph pumped liquid ambrosia through his bloodstream. “I will help you find her.”
    His hostess attempted to school her features into cool detachment, but he knew better. The tip of her tongue darted out and moistened her lips. “For what price?”
    “Partnership.”
    “In what?”
    The promise of victorious destiny glimmered within Harrison. “Destroying them all.”

Chapter Seven
    The deep rumble of a snore delivered directly into her eardrum snapped Willa awake. For a second, she thought she’d produced it, but then it sounded again. She froze, her thumping heartbeat nearly drowning out the much-too-close snores.
    Oh crap, what have I done this time?
    The warm, solid press of a hard, masculine body beneath hers gave her a good idea. If that weren’t enough of a damning clue, the unmistakable wetness between her thighs sealed the deal.
    Moving with less speed than a snail, she lifted onto her elbows and stared down at Max. His features were sleep relaxed, but even with him dead to the world, there was no missing the undeniable sexual satisfaction radiating from him.
    She smothered her groan and inched backward. Her thigh grazed his cock and his shaft swelled, nudging her. Max murmured something too low to comprehend. She worriedly eyed his face, looking for any sign he was waking up. Another soft snore broke from him. Gusting a relieved sigh, she resumed her awkward attempt to untangle their limbs. Without thinking, she allowed her gaze to dip to where his cock brushed perilously close to her hip. Out of the blue, a barrage of fractured memories slammed into her brain, every single one raunchier than the last. The most mortifying of them was the recollection of riding Max like he was her personal stud bronco.
    Oh Goddess.
    She had to get out of there before Max woke up and her embarrassment quadrupled. Or she gave in to the fierce urge to reenact all those wicked memories. Both possibilities were best avoided, in her estimation of things. She wiggled sideways and managed to dislodge his arm from her waist. He grunted but didn’t awaken. Grasping the opportunity, she scrambled to her feet and backed away from Max. Her attention fell on his sweatpants—which were scrunched down around his knees. Oh jeez . She hadn’t even waited long enough to let him take them off. Would her mortification never end? After fumbling to get her bra fastened, she located her rumpled capris and her blouse at the foot of the bed and performed the fastest clothes change in history. She slipped on her sandals. Leaving the straps unbuckled, she dashed from the room.
    Relief swept her when she spotted her keys dangling from one of the hooks on the whitewashed pegboard rack hung near the front door. She plucked them free and snagged her purse. Darting outside, she raced to her car, feeling a little too uncomfortably like a woman trying to sneak away from a one-night stand.
    Oh yeah. She was.
    Wincing, she jumped behind the wheel and keyed the ignition. Although she knew the Taurus’s engine was relatively quiet on start up, her guilty conscious elevated the slight chug and purr to being more along the lines of a convoy of semis roaring to life. Hands shaking on the steering wheel, she waited for Max to appear next to her door, an accusing scowl on his face and those damning sweats still hanging down around his knees.
    “I’m a horrible, horrible person.” Repeating that mantra another time or twenty, she rammed the gears in reverse and squealed out of Max’s driveway. Okay, technically she didn’t really squeal because that pretty much would have defeated the whole sneaky, illicit-getaway plan. But the tires did make a groaning noise that she swore sounded a little too much like “you dirty whore” as they hit the slight dip in the drive.
    Less than ten minutes later, she pulled in front of her townhouse. Right about then, it hit