Page 39 of My Hexed Honeymoon

Now she’s halfway there, each tiny shift and puff of breath turning me on that much more. “You keep rubbing up against it.”

“We’re sharing the same sleeping bag. It’s kinda hard not to.”

“I resent thatkindahard comment. We both know it’s all the way there.” I test the waters, equal parts curiosity and raging need, and arch against her.

My groan punctuates the quiet, followed by a moan from her that sends me soaring toward the moon—she’s equally affected by me and the magnetic pull between us. She’s just better at hiding it.

She cuddles closer, the resistance of her hip bone increasing the pressure against my steely length, and I’m beginning to think she’s teasing and taunting me on purpose.

My control’s about to snap either way.

That’s the other reason I’ve done my best to convince myself I hate her.

She makes me feel unraveled. Unhinged. Too aware of every move she makes, the change in her breath when she’s hikingand getting too fatigued, or almost asleep. How she’ll bound off without checking if it’s the right direction, and that fucking messy bun she redoes again and again.

“And the thing Riven said about the bond…” Talia rubs her thighs together. “I hate that they might have a point.”

Once again, I grunt.

Not my best, but my hips rock of their own accord, the rush of pleasure through my core leaving my eyes rolling back into my head.

“Is this what it feels like to be a guy?” she asks with a dizzying buck of her hips, mouth falling open in a perfect O shape. “All I can think about is sex and doing it, and I’m dizzy with the idea of it all fucking day.”

“Yes,” I say simply. “But I’ve never experienced it on this level. I’ve seen my brothers lose their minds over their mates, I just never thought I’d be one of them.”

I take the opening, my mouth finding the curve of her shoulder. It’s the same spot I lavished attention on while she projected into the Hollow, and it’s as delicious as I remember, her pulse setting itself to the swipes of my tongue.

My hand finds the hem of her shirt and slides beneath. Her skin has lost some of its coolness, but she’s still not warm enough.

Not that my motive is purely altruistic—still, science is science. “Let’s get this shirt off you. We’ve gotta maximize surface area.”

“I’ll maximize your surface area,” she says, the comeback making me chuckle.

“Sweetheart, you can maximize my surface area anytime.” I peel her shirt up and off her before covering her body with mine again.

At her happy sigh, my heart expands in my chest, and didn’t I tell myself this was just sexual? Slaking the lust to feed the bond, that was all.

Talia wraps her arms around me extra tightly, her eyes finding mine and glinting in the dark. Desire swims in the green depths, the light from the moon sending a silvery stripe across the bridge of her nose.

Ever so slowly, she rolls her hips, dragging my cock over the apex of her thighs.

Her moan fills the air, better than any of my fantasies, and I’ve had my fair share in the two weeks since the wedding.

The keening sound that fills the tent and having her shirtless and writhing beneath me, though, is one hundred percent real.

As real as the woman shoving her pants down her thighs.

I snag hold of the waistband for her and tug—a real helper like that—and in the second it takes, I resent the space it forged between us.

Then I’m grateful and onboard again, as those silky-smooth legs tangle with mine. She wraps herself around my torso like a koala bear. “This is purely scientific, obviously.”

“By all means…” Reaching between us, I flatten my palm and point my fingertips toward the waistband of her panties—simple and pink, with lace around the waistband and a tiny bow that makes me feel like unwrapping my present. “In fact, I have a few theories I’d like to test for myself.”

My head swims when I reach the lace of the elastic, and my fingers brush that damn bow. “Mostly involving the pleasure principle.”

“Ah yes, a subject I’ve been more curious about as of late.” She arches her back, putting more of her on more of me, and the pressure has black spots dancing across my vision. “Need a study buddy?”

Gliding my hand into her panties, I palm her, a low noise of satisfaction rumbling through me at her damp heat. “More like a test subject, and lucky me, you’re already soaked.”

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