Page 94 of The Witch is Back

Emma woke to the desperate urge to pee. Grumbling, she lifted her head from where it was using Bastian’s bicep as a pillow. Weariness swamped her and as she moved, soreness in new places made her wince.

Then Chester sent another please, please, please request down their bond and she groaned. “Sorry, Ches. I’m up.”

She maneuvered herself into a seated position, wincing as she swung her legs around. She caught sight of the clock. Nine a.m. No wonder poor Chester was dancing around.

But it had been a late night. A secret smile curled her lips as she tossed a greedy look over her shoulder at the gorgeous male sprawled in her sheets. He slept like the dead, oblivious to her rolling away, utterly exhausted from a night of learning each other. In the bed. On the floor. In the shower. After that, Emma had had to regretfully say no, but she’d sated his and her curiosity by exploring his cock with her hands, with her tongue, until he’d been shouting her name.

Yes, she felt like a femme fatale this morning. Wild Emma. Unabridged. Nothing practical about bedding her fiancé.

She couldn’t believe he’d bought the whole “sensible to sleep with my husband” thing—but then, maybe she’d been overthinking anyway. She’d done it, slept with him, and woken up no closer to falling back into her old pattern of adoring him and putting him up on a pedestal. She saw the flaws. She saw the man. And she was more than happy to take things as they came. Keep them casual.

On her way back with Chester, she decided to pick up two coffees and muffins from the coffee shop three blocks away from her apartment. As she waited in line, she texted Sloane a good-morning message, with a link to a story about the teenager’s favorite actress. She might have been playing a little kiss-ass, but when they saw each other later, Emma would bring a batch of doughnuts to make it up to her.

It didn’t take long, though, before her thoughts zeroed back to Bastian’s confession the night before.

She’d told him the truth—she wasn’t mad that he’d been with someone else. She’d assumed he’d slept his way across the globe, and while it wasn’t pleasant to think of the man you’re attracted to dating others, she’d figured that they weren’t a couple and things happened. As she’d said, they’d made no promises. She’d never thought of him as hers. Not really. He’d been too...above her.

Now he’d been below her, too. She snickered at the thought and wondered at how far she’d come. No longer the lost little girl hoping for scraps, now she felt every inch a strong, sexy woman and that had as much to do with taking control of her own life as with being intimate with Bastian. Her first. And she was kind of his first, too, considering he’d stopped before out of misplaced honor. He really was a good man.

A stab of guilt had her eyes closing for a second before she purposefully moved past it.

They still needed to discuss what would happen now, whether it was a one-night thing or a casual affair until they were married and he left.

But not this morning, she decided as she smiled brilliantly at the barista who handed her a paper sack and two coffees in a carrying container. This morning she felt too good to be serious, especially when Sloane messaged back with a bunch of emojis, excited about the new movie her actress was shooting. For once in her life, Emma didn’t want to think ahead. She just wanted to focus on the now, and the now involved going back to the incredible man in her bed.

Except he was at the breakfast bar fully clothed when she walked in, looking at his cell. He glanced up when she closed the door behind her and a hunting expression slid across his face. Desire and the memories of last night all played into the dark smile aimed her way. “Good morning.”

Like the prey she was, she’d frozen midstep. Now with her heart thudding wildly, she crept closer. “Morning.”

He’d moved the couch back into position, so it wasn’t in his way when he stepped forward, wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her close to kiss her.

It was greedy and lush. The man liked kissing, she was realizing. And it clearly wasn’t a one-night thing. A glow warmed her as she dropped the coffee on the countertop, the sack on the floor and knotted her hands around his neck.

He lifted her with ease, two solid hands under her butt. Walking them to a wall, he continued to kiss her, long, slow, teasing.

“Well.” She blinked as he released her mouth. Her throat was tight due to lack of oxygen, but who needed that. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He grinned at her. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Coffee.” She lifted her chin toward the breakfast bar. “And—oh, Chester.” Her dog had investigated the sack and nosed out a muffin.

If dogs could look guilty, Chester did as he scurried behind the couch with his stolen treasure.

At least it was blueberry and she wouldn’t have to chase him down like the time he’d got his paws on a double chocolate. That had been a fun trip to the vet.

“So.” Bastian cocked his head, bringing her attention back to him. “Thoughts on last night?”

He was feeling her out. Making sure she wasn’t suddenly in love with him. The Virgin’s Curse, or what every man assumed would happen when a woman lost her virginity to him.

“Five out of ten,” she answered with a straight face. “A little shaky on the dismount.”

He squeezed her butt and she bit back a yelp. “Smart-ass.”

“You’d know, you’re grabbing enough.”

He squeezed again. “You’re okay? Not too...sore?”

Instant heat rushed to her cheeks. “Some. The walk helped.” Not to mention the quick healing elixir she intended to stir up and add to her coffee.

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