Page 59 of The Witch is Back

Her stupid pulse leaped again. “Anyone would do the same.”

“No.” He shook his head and came closer. She tried to go through the breakfast bar to the other side, but the wood held firm. Drat. If she could just remember the words to the ghosting spell... “Not everyone would. Not every witch would. But you’ve always been different.”

She didn’t dare speak.

“Sometimes I think I can trust you.” Consideration reflected in both the words and the warm navy gaze he dragged over her. “Because I like you.”

“Good.” She tried to sidle to the side, but his arms came around her, bracing him against the bar and leaving her trapped between the counter and his body. Panic battled desire. “We’re meant to be getting back to friends, right?”

“No. I mean, yeah, but it’s more than that. Lately—” He stopped, clearly frustrated. “Lately, when I’m around you, I watch your mouth.”

It parted at his words.

“And I remember that night in the garden.”

Goddess, he smelled good. Emma struggled not to lean in and bury her nose in his neck.

“It’s such a bad idea,” he murmured, his gaze moving to hers. Locking there. “We have a plan. Friends. And there’s the trust thing but...my gut tells me to trust you.”

“O-okay...”

“You’re Emmaline,” and he looked baffled by the words even though he’d said them. “But...”

But what?

She would not ask.

What she should do was push him back or duck under his arm or cast a spell or use a broad wave of telekinesis so she could escape to her room. That would be the sensible, practical thing to do for their long-term goal of staying friends in a platonic marriage.

She stayed where she was.

“Do you like me, Emma?”

She hesitated, somehow feeling the question was more loaded than what it sounded. Finally she nodded, helpless to speak. Her throat felt thick.

“That’s good. I want you to like me. I want to make you smile.” He lifted a hand, grazed fingers over her lips. “I want to see this mouth smile.”

She swallowed.

“This mouth...” he repeated, and his voice dipped. “All I can think about is this mouth.”

That potion should be outlawed. She had no idea what to say, literally lost to the sensual web he was unintentionally weaving.

“I want to kiss you.”

The darkly spoken words came like a lightning punch from a shadowed alley. They hit her solar plexus and she wheezed. So sexy.

He didn’t seem to mind, one corner of his mouth hooking up into a dimple. “That surprises you. It surprised me. And then I tried to ignore it, but the truth is that I want to kiss you. One more time.”

She stared up at him, weak at the knees, in the head. Her magic teetered on the brink. “Oh, Bastian,” she breathed. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

“Probably.” His smile dropped, replaced with an intent look. “But if I’m going to regret anything, might as well regret this.”

And before she grasped his meaning, Bastian kissed her.

CHAPTER 12

It was heat and magic and desire and all Emma could think, as her hands blindly flew up to grip Bastian’s shirt, was more.

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