Mirrorlight by Jill Myles Read Free Book Online Page B

man and wishing it was his hand on her.
    The mirror flared with light. Just a little, but Cora recognized it from before. Her hands stilled.
    Nothing happened. Damn it.
    Using two fingers, Cora slid them over her clit again, teasing the bud between her fingers. Another tremor rocked through her body, and she thought of Aric—his big hands, the callus on them. Thought of him easing one of those large fingers between her legs and slipping deep, sinking into her heat while she played with her clit. Her hips bucked on the chair in response, a jolt of pure pleasure shooting through her body at the thought.
    The mirror shimmered with light.
    She kept touching herself, alternately stroking her clit between two fingers and then circling the sensitive bud. With her other fingers, she teased her folds, slick with need, and her eyes closed, imagining him doing this to her.
    “Please,” she whispered, her body arching as she moved toward an orgasm. She braced one foot against the mirror. “I need you, Aric. Please come.” Her name whispered in her ears. Cora . A caress, finger light, upon her foot, stroking up toward her knee. She opened her eyes.
    The man stood in the mirror, staring down at her, his eyes hungry as he feasted on the sight of her touching herself. His hair was tangled, the chin-grazing locks tucked behind his ears, his tan just as dark as she remembered. He was dressed—well, partially—with dark trousers on and boots, his chest bare. Aric’s hand had come through the mirror somehow, and his fingertips rested on her knee. Her foot looked to be braced on one large thigh that had come through the mirror as well.
    At the sight of him—darkly handsome and lust written across his face, her body jolted into an orgasm. Her toes curled against his thigh and she gave a wracking shudder, biting her lip and gasping.
    It was good, but…it wasn’t enough. The thought flashed through her mind even as she continued to rub her clit, shuddering through the last of the orgasm. His hot gaze moved to where she played with her sex, his hand sliding toward her inner thigh, and another burst of desire rocked through her.
    “Yes,” she said, her legs quivering as his hand moved forward. This was what she wanted. This was what she’d been waiting for.
    The backs of his fingers grazed against her thigh and then stopped. He had leaned forward to touch her, and as she gazed up at him, she saw well over half of his body had come through the mirror. His hands, his thighs, and the bulge in his breeches threatened to cross as well. His face remained on the other side of the mirror, along with his torso.
    He could reach through to touch her—but he couldn’t pass through. For some reason, he could not move forward more, and her body—her aching, needing sex—lay just out of his reach.
    A frustrated look crossed his face, and she knew her own echoed it.
    She sat up and pulled his hand into her own, standing. It was warm against her own, felt real and heavy. He did exist. She couldn’t stop the smile that curved her mouth and she took his hand and tugged him forward.
    He smiled slowly at her, the look meltingly sexual, and tried to step through the mirror. Again, he was stopped by some unknown force.
    “Oh,” she said softly, placing her other hand against the glass and watching it sink through. “That’s not fair. We can touch each other, but we can’t kiss, can we?” He said something, but she couldn’t hear him. Frustration welled through her. They could touch, but…that was it? She couldn’t even have a conversation with him.
    His hand moved to her cheek, grazing it gently and he mouthed something. She knew what he said without even hearing the words. Don’t be sad . She gave him a soft half-smile in return, and slid her hand through the mirror to touch his bare chest. It felt the barest cool sensation—like slipping her hand through a waterfall—and then her flesh touched the warm expanse of muscle.
    His eyes closed, as