Page 89 of The Witch is Back

She tugged him back to her. “Stop playing the perfect gentleman.”

She felt his smile as he kissed her again. The zing in her blood brightened, heart quickening as his hands moved with strong, confident movements to her hips to press her against his lower body.

“Did you take a gun to my mother’s?” she murmured against his lips.

He stifled a laugh. “You should never take a loaded weapon into that kind of environment. You never know if it might go off.”

“As long as it doesn’t go off too soon.”

“Emma Bluewater.” He drew back, eyes sparkling. His cheeks were flushed. “You constantly surprise me.”

“Shh, don’t tell anyone.”

“They’re all missing out.” Affection bunked up with the desire as he slid a hand up from her hips, down her bare arm in an action that left goose bumps in its wake. He tangled their fingers and began to walk her backward toward her bedroom. “The truth is I wanted some extra padding in case things got dicey.”

She flicked a look at the area in question, noted the bulge. And, okay, yes, blushed. “You’re telling me that’s padding?”

“Are you sure you want to find out?” His grin was darkly seductive.

In other situations, flirty banter was not her strong point. But it had rarely been a problem with Bastian. She let the truth roll off her, mind fixed on other things.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

They passed through her doorway. She was very aware the bed was behind them.

His cheek dimpled even as he pushed her gently onto the mattress. She scooted back, aware of how her dress’s hem had flipped up a few inches higher on her thighs. His eyes went there.

“Goddess, I hope that’s a promise.”

Chester padded in, looked at both of them, Bastian standing in front of the bed, Emma half reclined on it.

Her cheeks boiled as she pointed. “Out, Chester.”

He looked at her, cocked his head. Enquiry came down the bond, a hopeful question of play.

Goddess. “Out,” she said again, voice high-pitched. “Later.”

He hung his head and slunk out. Bastian chuckled. “You’re embarrassed because your dog knows we’re having sex.”

“Well.” She covered her eyes with her hand, flopped back. Resignation filled her, and not a small amount of disappointment. “I guess the moment’s over.”

“Oh?”

She pressed her lips together, tried not to sound miserable. “I ruined the mood.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself.”

That was a bit far. Her hand moved off her eyes and she levered up. “I’m—”

Whatever she’d been about to say strangled in her throat. In the time she’d been lying back, he’d shucked the jacket, vest and shirt, standing before her in his trousers and nothing else.

And Goddess, the man was built. All the digs he went on had hardened his stomach and chest, molded his biceps, creating layers of rippling muscle until he was a walking advertisement for what a man could achieve with physical labor.

Her mouth went dry. A cliché for a reason. And the only thing that could quench her thirst was the tall drink of water passing a considering gaze over her.

“Since you ruined the mood,” he said, voice husky. “You need to help me get back into it.”

“I do?” His words said one thing, but the way he looked at her... A shiver skipped along her skin, followed by rising hope. She hadn’t ruined it by being a dork?

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