Page 60 of The Witch is Back

He didn’t go slow, didn’t ease her in. And she loved that he didn’t think he needed to, that he didn’t think of her as shy, sweet Emmaline who needed to be coaxed.

Instead, he kissed her like a woman he had to have. His lips plundered hers, his arms tight around her, the bottle of water dropping to the floor. His mouth moved with absolute purpose and that purpose was to drive her out of her freaking mind. And he did it well.

Dizziness washed up her body and she vaguely heard a clatter from the cupboards, something smash as her lips clung to his, her body pressed snugly against him.

His mouth left hers and she tightened her grip on his shirt. Not yet, not yet.

“Open,” he breathed. “Open for me.”

Her moment of incomprehension fled when he kissed her again, and this time she parted her lips. He took full advantage, his tongue teasing hers, his hands sliding over her body, learning it. Everywhere he touched, heat spread, arrowing to her core. Her breasts flattened as she leaned even farther into him. Sensitized nipples rubbed cloth and her breath hitched.

He heard, his mouth growing hotter, more ardent as his hands gripped her hips and boosted her up onto the bar. He nudged her legs open, stepping between them, all without breaking the kiss.

The man had skills. She was aware of his heart beneath her hands and how it thundered, a pair to her own. She flattened her hands, loving how his pecs jumped in response, how his grip tightened on her hips as she slid them over his chest. Across his nipples.

A phantom hand began to slide up her thigh and she jerked in surprise. He recaptured her mouth instantly, a smile flavoring the kiss. And that telekinetic hand continued to tease up her thigh. Too slowly.

She bit him. He growled in response.

This wasn’t her. This wild, needy creature. She was the serious witch, the awkward date. Where had this need come from, this desire to rip off her clothes and his and have him hold her down with his weight. Come into her.

Bastian. It had always been Bastian.

Her hands fisted at the thought. She broke the kiss, shuddering when he took the opportunity to lick down her neck to the base, where he gently bit.

“Emma.” It was a groan against her skin. “I want you.”

Another dish smashed from the open cupboard behind him.

No. This had to stop. He wasn’t in his right mind. Neither was she.

“Stop,” she whispered, unable to push him away. “We need to stop.”

The phantom hand hesitated, mirroring his mouth. He was breathing hard. “Why?”

“Because.” She swallowed, tasted him. “We had a deal.”

“Let’s talk about that.”

She saw he was about to kiss her again, knew she’d weaken if he so much as laid lip on her, and took the coward’s way out. She threw up a hand. “Incantartum.”

Bastian dropped like a rock amidst the broken china.

Emma grimaced. “Sorry,” she murmured to his sleeping form. “But you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

As she’d expected, Emma was plagued by half dreams that focused on hot mouths and strong hands. And feelings of dread and guilt and a small amount of concern. She’d thought she was over this, over him.

Did you really, though?

It didn’t really matter. Once the Divining was done, Bastian would go anyway. What was the point in thinking too much about feelings, regrets, secrets? She’d chosen her path and she was sticking to it. No matter how good the man’s mouth was.

She gave up trying to sleep at six a.m., threw on some clothes, snuck past Bastian as she motioned for Chester, and together they hit the park early. It was busier than she’d thought and what with Chester’s sudden love for a poodle that he wouldn’t quit following around and a detour to get fresh bagels, it was past seven when she returned to her apartment.

She didn’t halt when she saw Bastian standing by the breakfast bar, but the little hop-skip probably hadn’t fooled him. “Oh. H-hi.”

Was she supposed to pretend The Kiss hadn’t happened? Was she supposed to breeze through like she went around catapulting herself onto men on a weekly basis?

To her surprise, an expression of discomfort settled on Bastian’s face. Maybe he had no idea what to do either. She wasn’t sure if that helped or hindered.

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