Page 35 of The Trouble With Spells
He rolled his pretty eyes, shoving his glasses up with one finger. “You know what I mean.”
“Just be yourself. My parents will love you. Though, maybe don’t mention you being a witch.”
“Pfft. It’s a great talking point if conversation lags,” he told me seriously.
I snorted. “Try football or something.”
“I know dick-all about that.” He glanced around as we started up the wide steps leading to the full-length porch. “Wait! Did they film part ofHocus Pocushere? In this house?”
He yanked his hand from mine, skipped back down the steps and peered up at the front of the house with narrowed, critical eyes.
Huffing, I stepped towards him. “No! Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’ve never seen it, but I’m going with that doesn’t seem like something my parents would say yes to. I think it came out the year I was born, so I’m going to saydefinitely not.”
Gasping, he took another step backwards, and I grabbed him before he tripped or got too far from me. “Are you trying to make my brain explode?”
“Are you trying to makemybrain explode?” There was a shocked expression on his face. “How have you never seenHocus Pocus?Whyhave you never seenHocus Pocus? What is wrong with you? It takes place in Salem.”
Shrugging, I pulled him behind me towards the stately front door with the welcoming orange and yellow Fall wreath on it. “I don’t know what to tell you. Seemed like a lot of hype and people making another big deal about something that happened in Salem. Witches aren’t my thing, remember? Never have been.”
Wincing when I realized how that might sound, I turned, pulling him close. Tipping his chin up with my finger, I gently amended, “Until now. Witches weren’t my thing until now. I’m starting to…really like them.”
A smile ghosted across his bowed lips, and I very much wanted to kiss him in that moment. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Breathing the word across his skin, I bent my head and let myself repeat what I had done that first night, lying in bed with him, whispering my secrets in the dark.
Callum’s lips were soft beneath mine, and he opened them to let me in. Unlike our first kiss, this time I got to taste him. Coffee, mint, and something dark and rich that was all him. It was intoxicating, addictive, and I wanted more of it.
His arms wound around my neck, his fingers curled in my hair, pulling me closer to him, deepening the kiss. A moan rumbled from my throat, a growl of pure need, and my hands roamed down his back to cup his perfect ass, grinding our bodies against each other. Blood rushed from my brain straight to my dick so fast it left me dizzy with it.
This kiss was like nothing I’d ever experienced before, even better than our first kiss had been. I felt it throughout my entire body, clear down to my toes. It was like the sun had come out after years of darkness, and I relished it.
It was a visceral reaction, and I never wanted it to end. I wanted to know Callum, to learn every single thing there was about him. Wanted to explore his long body, find each spot that would make him writhe beneath me. But it was more than that. So much more.
I wanted to know him. It was a need I had never felt for anyone ever.
I wanted to know what made him Callum. Every. Single. Thing. I wanted to know how he looked when turned on, or happy, or mad, even sad.
And I wanted nothing more than to push him against the side of the house and grind my body into his. To feel our cocks rubbing against each other, through the fabrics of our clothes. Wanted to caress every curve, line, and dip of his lean body.
Callum might have admitted he had a crush on me in high school, but I was the one who was crushing now.
A loud, exaggerated clearing of a throat had us springing apart like two teenagers caught on the front porch past curfew.
“Good evening, Michael,” my dad’s deep voice rumbled, his lips twitching as he fought a smile.
Running a hand through my hair, I swallowed hard, my hand blindly reaching out for Callum’s. I needed something to ground me, because the earth was swaying wildly beneath my feet. My breath sounded loud and ragged in my ears as I desperately sucked in oxygen to my starving lungs.
Sneaking a quick peek at Callum, he wasn’t in any better shape. His glasses were slightly askew, his black hair even more wild than usual where I must have, at some point, ran my fingers through the silky strands. A soft, rosy flush spread across his high cheekbones, and the pupils of his green eyes were wide and blown.
I was going to totally ignore the throbbing, raging hard on I was standing in front of my dad with. Thankfully, my dad's amused hazel eyes weren’t straying from my face, which felt hot with need, and embarrassment, in equal measure.
Nodding, I muttered, “Hey Dad.”
He went in for a hug, which was awkward as fuck since I tried to keep a good distance between him and the almost painful bulge in my pants. When he pulled away, thatdamn smirk of his still causing his lips to twist, I turned to Callum.
“Dad, this is Callum Turner, my…boyfriend.” The word felt foreign and unused on my tongue, but also just…right.
Dad stuck his hand towards Callum and they shook. “Callum, good to meet you. Jess filled me in on running into the two of you. Call me Mike, please. Chef is getting dinner on the table. Don’t want to keep your mother waiting,” he rolled his eyes but there was a soft warmth there, “you know how she is about dinner times.”
