Page 25 of If The Shoe Fits

“Enough talk of kids,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly deeper now, rich and velvety like melted chocolate. “I’m concerned with something else right now.”

His arms tighten around me, and suddenly, I’m half sprawled across his impossibly broad chest.

The heat wafting off him is intoxicating, seeping into my bones and warming me to the marrow. And his scent—Goddess, his scent.

It’s that blasted snickerdoodle cookies and cinnamon, and I’m about five seconds away from either devouring him or demanding he bake me something.

“You smell like dessert,” I mutter, half delirious, my head falling against his shoulder.

His low chuckle rumbles through me like a purr. “And you, Sweet Witch, smell like trouble.”

I open my mouth to retort, but before I can get a word out, his lips find the curve of my jaw, trailing soft kisses that send lightning bolts shooting through my veins.

Oh, boy. He’s right. I am in so much trouble.

“Isn’t it better when we get along?” he asks, rubbing his big hands up and down my back, over my butt till he’s gripping my thick thighs, positioning me just right.

“Yeah. Um, but you said something. I mean, what else are you concerned with?” I ask, trying for a business-like tone I sure as shenanigans don’t feel.

“This,” he murmurs.

Next thing I know, Wulfy is holding me in place with one heavy hand on the back of my neck while he crushes his lips to mine.

Every thought I have goes flying right out of my brain as if it never existed.

I become a thing of instinct. Pure passion and lust roar through my veins as I fuse my mouth to his and kiss him back for all I’m worth.

It feels so good.

So right.

But no. This is wrong. I mean, he doesn’t really—oh hell, that feels good.

You have to stop this, Dora.

Oh, shut up, I tell my inner voice.

I turn myself completely, opening my legs, so I am sitting astride the big, sexy Werewolf.

He is so deliciously hard for me, and I can’t help it. I rock my body against his, loving how he feels.

“That’s it, Sweet Witch. Use me. Show me what you need to feel good,” he growls into my mouth.

His delectable tongue swirls around mine, and it’s been so long since I felt anything even remotely close to this, I don’t push him away like I should.

Nope.

Instead, I hold on tight.

Magic might rule my life, and sure, I teach ethics and morals.

But what’s so immoral about chasing my passion?

“You taste divine, my Dora,” he murmurs, nipping my bottom lip with his.

His mouth ghosted over mine, making me quiver and ache for him in my most secret naughty places.

For some reason, I truly believe this Wolf has exactly what I need.

---