Page 36 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

She disconnected the call and gathered her things. In the past, after sex, he’d usually roll over and go to sleep. This time, it was like he wanted to draw out that emotional connection.

Or at least that was whatshefelt. What she always wanted. Just to keep that closeness for a bit longer.

When she stepped out into the garden, he’d pushed two loungers together. His head was tipped back looking up at the sky.

“Thought you’d changed your mind,” he said.

“Almost did. Didn’t realize when I said the past was done that I’d be the one still trying to pull myself out of it,” she said.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Ali, I want this week in England with you. I want to look back on the UK and you and not feel bad.”

Sitting down next to him, she started to cross her legs, but he lifted his arm and pulled her into his side. He stroked her arm with his fingers. “Tell me about the moon, witchy woman.”

Witchy woman.

She liked the way he said that. She had been afraid to show him that side of herself when they were married. One fear gone; one change noted.

Talking softly, she told him about the phase they were in and all the things that the moon could bring to them during this time.

He asked her questions, listening in a way that he hadn’t before. With that, she felt her resolve crumble.

Ten

The summer solstice was always one of her favorite days of the year. The start of the summer season and the opening of all those gorgeous long days that held endless possibilities. The fact that her friends weren’t here with her dimmed her joy the tiniest bit.

Keeping her hands off Alistair was harder than she thought it would be. Especially on the back of his Ducati as they wove through the winding country roads that led from Kent up to Glastonbury. As a teenager, she’d begged her parents for tickets to the annual music festival, but they always said no. One, she’d been too young—whatever—and two, the tickets were too expensive. But the third reason, and probably the real reason, was simple: coed camping.

During her teenage years she’d been sort of out of control...with everything. Nothing had changed during her uni years except meeting this man she was holding on to now as the June sun beat down on her back.

As much as he intimated that she’d changed, Poppy didn’t really feel that different. It wasn’t like she’d stopped craving love and acceptance after the divorce. Perhaps she’d gotten slightly better at choosing the people she let into her heart.

“Want to stop at Stonehenge? They’ve really changed it, and you can’t get close to the stones at all now,” he said. His voice was deep and husky in her ear from the built-in microphones in their helmets.

“No, thanks for the offer,” she said. Her spiritual practice was too personal to share with anyone other than those who mattered to her. Plus, she wasn’t up to facing the crowds that showed up at Stonehenge on the solstices without Liberty and Serafina at her side. She was looking forward to a somewhat quiet ritual at the top of the Tor tonight.

“When did you get all witchy?” he asked.

“I always was,” she said under her breath, momentarily forgetting about the microphone.

“I never noticed. How did I miss that?”

“I didn’t want to scare you off, Alistair. You were pretty big stuff, and the fact that you liked me had me...” She trailed off.

It had her trying to shape herself into a woman he would fall for. A woman who would be worthy of being the wife of the second son of the eighth Earl of Winfield. It wasn’t like her family hadn’t been solidly middle class. She’d gone to a good school and been on holidays in France and Tenerife. But Alistair had been next-level.

Still was.

Which was why, no matter how hot he made her, she was going to be smart and keep it in her pants. She wasn’t following her libido back into another ill-advised hookup. There was nothing down that path but destruction for both of them.

Yet clearly he wanted her.

Which made her want to push and see how long it would take until his control cracked. To finally exercise her power.

Would she be the first to break?

Hell no.

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