Page 29 of Cursed By the Love Witch

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THE HIGH WARLOCK

After an hour, it is clear that necromancy and Darcee will never agree.

That matters little to him. He would gladly spend countless more hours together in his office going over the same subjects—explaining and reexplaining things—until she understood. This is a clear show of favoritism, and as an upstanding professor who takes his job seriously, he should feel ashamed. However, as he watches Darcee’s cheeks deepen with color as the subject matter finally clicks for her, he can’t bring himself to care.

Their whole dynamic is inappropriate, but he always knew it would be. In a few weeks, none of this will matter. They’ll no longer have to hide and dance around their connection.

Well, what he hopes is their connection. Surely, she is not immune to it. The desire is strong enough to burn him alive. He aches with it. Every moment in her presence lowers his defenses, and the primal part of him grows more assertive. He would’ve taken her in Saege’s room—would take her now in this one, but he vowed to show restraint. They can be together that way once he has fully won her affection.

For now, he has a job to do.

Even if it is impossible not to be tempted by her, the madness stretches as he stares at Darcee. Her short skirt ends midthigh, showing off a creamy expanse of pale skin before the tops of her boots begin. Her white shirt is poking out from underneath, a few buttons undone to highlight the small swells of her breast. They rise and fall with each deep breath.

He remembers being in the darkened corridor with her. They had been so close to his mouth—a forbidden temptation. The feel of her against his palms had nearly made him lose control. Darcee was all soft curves and even softener sighs. It had tempted the parts of him he’d kept buried—the ones inherited from his father.

Once he is satisfied with her comprehension, the lesson ends. Carefully, she slides her books and parchment away before looking at him again. Her eyes dance with mischief. Dark pink lips pull into a grin. The High Warlock curls his shaking hands in on themselves to stop himself from snatching her up and carrying her away.

“You did well,” he says. His voice sounds strange to his ears.

Her grin deepens.

“Maybe I was just needing some private tutoring this whole time.” Magenta eyes turn thoughtful. “I hadn’t even thought to ask.”

He nods. The shame at how he let her struggle in class creeps up his neck.

“I was unfair to you, little witch. I’ll never stop apologizing for it.”

Her small hand slides towards him, resting atop his trembling one. The slight touch sets him on fire. Desire roars in his blood, and his whole body hardens.

“We have been unfair to each other.”

White teeth sink into her full lower lip. How badly he wishes to taste her—to have her as he’s always dreamed.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Words don't seem enough for what you have done for me.”

The High Warlock’s nostrils flare. The scent of lilacs and sweet honey invade his lungs. His cock hardens into steel, a new sensation only brought upon by her. He cannot give in to his desire—not yet. However, what she is offering….

“I didn’t bring you in here for that. You don’t owe me anything for helping you.”

A lovely blush breaks out along her cheeks.

“I know,” she says softly, rising from her seat.

He holds his breath as she rounds his desk. Pushing back, he turns in his chair to face her. The soft leather groans as his fingers dig into it.

“That makes me want to do this even more.”

Before he can utter a word, every thought empties from his head as he watches Darce—lovely and pink—crawl into his lap. Her thighs go on either side of his legs as she settles against him. Warm and soft. Curly pink hair tickles his cheeks.

He is losing the battle of keeping his hands at his side, fighting to resist her temptation. Darcee is unburdened, and her small hands raise to cup his cheeks. She holds him for balance but also to position his face just right. Her pink tongue licks her lips before her eyes flutter shut.

Slowly, her face drifts towards his. He could stop this at any time and demand that they wait so that he may court her properly. Yet, he has denied himself for so long. Why stop when she wants this just as much as he does?

Her soft lips press against his, and everything changes. It is all the confirmation he needs. His blood roars, his muscles tighten, and his cock presses against the front of his trousers. A low snarl gathers in his chest.

With shaking hands, he crushes her firmly against him. Her small breasts press into his chest, and she moans into their kiss. His madness has just reached a new level, and one undeniable truth pumps through him.

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