Page 83 of The Secret Life of a Witch

The door smacks against my back and repeatedly jostles me forward, making my chest bump into Hunter’s. But he doesn’t move back.

“First of all, how many times have I told you that you’re the only witch I call pretty.” His gaze is intense, but his tone carries a drop of playfulness. “And secondly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you sound a little jealous.”

“Yeah, so what?” I retort stupidly. “It kind of sucks that you swap spit with almost everyone.”

“Almost everyone?” he challenges with an arch of his brow. “You’re making me sound like a manwhore.”

“Maybe you are a manwhore,” I quip. “You have done a lot of stuff witha lotof witches.”

“No, I haven’t.” He slants his body closer to mine. “You just think I have.”

“I think you have because I’ve seen you with a ton of different girls. And I really doubt you’ve just been friends with them all,” I remind him, my heart aching.

I tell it shut the evil dancing leprechauns up, that it shouldn’t be reacting that way since I have no clue whether I’m still in love with Hunter or not. My heart has other ideas, though, and continues to clench and crack and throb and do every other cliché heartbreaking reaction in the book.

Way to be original, heart.

“You’ve only seen what I wanted you to see.” He leans even closer, his chest aligning with mine.

“So, you’re saying that you haven’t hooked up with a bunch of girls?” I ask with cynicism. “That you’re a virgin or something?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But I haven’t hooked up nearly as many times as you think I have.”

A week ago, I wouldn’t have doubted him because, a week ago, I didn’t think Hunter would ever lie to me. But this dressed in black jeans, a matching shirt, and leather studded bracelets Hunter standing in front of me just might be a big, stinking liar.

Okay, okay, he really doesn’t stink. In fact, he smells very nice, like cologne and soap. But he still could be a liar!

“You think I’m lying to you?” he questions, his eyes flashing with hurt.

I shrug as the door bangs against the back of my head. “I don’t know … I don’t really know you. And you’ve lied a lot, so who’s to say you’re not lying now?”

He shakes his head, his lips twitching in irritation, which only makes me more agitated.

“I’m not lying,” he says in a low voice. “And I’ll prove it.”

I roll my eyes. “You can’t possibly?—”

He seals his lips to mine, kissing the words right from my mouth.

I suck in a huge breath through my nose and press back against the door, trying to break our mouths apart.

He doesn’t really want to kiss me. I’m a succubus! I’m seducing him right now!

When his tongue parts my lips, all rational thoughts going flying away to the full moon. Which apparently is becoming a theme when it comes to us kissing.

He groans as his tongue tangles with mine, his hand still gripping the doorknob. “I’m not lying,” he whispers against my lips. “You can feel that I’m not, right?”

I bob my head up and down, realizing what he’s doing—using our shared magic as a truth detector.

“I’m not as big a manwhore as you think,” he promises, kissing me once, twice, three times. “I just wanted you to think I was.”

“Why?” I asked dazedly with my eyes shut.

“Because it kept me from going after what I want.”

“Oh.” I’m probably going to sound like an idiot for not knowing, but since I can’t figure it out, I have to ask, “What do you want?”

He sighs, his breath dusting my lips. “Oh, Eva, if only you could see yourself like everyone else does.”

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