Page 41 of The Trouble With Spells
“No trying to conjure breakfast in bed. I have no desire to be turned into a frog, or anything else.” I had told him about the Sean debacle over breakfast, along with some other tales of my spell casting misadventures.
Snorting, I agreed. “Deal.”
Turning serious, I ran a hand through my hair. “I’ve been thinking about all your accidents. Even though it doesn’t feel like the spell caused them, I think we should try to find the original spell caster and see if we can get him to break the spell.”
Michael’s eyes widened, and he pushed himself into a seated position on the bed. “You think I’m right then? That this spell is causing all kinds of bad luck for me?”
Huffing out a breath of air, I shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Like I’ve said, the spell isn’t that strong, and I’m not sensing any black magic from it. But when you add up all the life-threatening things that have happened since it was cast, it’s hard to look past them all as just coincidences. If we can get it broken before Daphne returns, I think we should try. A lot can happen before my family comes home next weekend, and I don’t want to risk it. I don’t want to risk you.”
“Okay, so I guess a-clubbing we shall go.” He yawned loudly. “Maybe not for a few days though? It’s been a long time since I had to recover from a reaction like this, but I do remember it took a few days. I’m exhausted, sore, slightly queasy, and want to sleep for about a week.”
“I think we’re good to wait until you’ve recovered fully,” I agreed. “Besides, you should be safe enough at my place. In my bed.” I didn’t tell him I’d be double checking all the wards in the house and shop, just to be on the safe side.
We’d shared my bed the last couple of nights, spooning and sharing nothing more than a few chaste kisses, but tonight had changed everything between us. It had started with the blazing hot kiss on his parents’ front porch and ended with us nearly losing him. There was no way I could miss the flare of heat in Michael’s eyes, even feeling as bad as he did. And he hadn’t missed my meaning.
I wanted Michael Endicott, and he wanted me. It didn’t matter that it was all happening at lightning quick speed.
“I love the sound of that,” he told me huskily, and I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his. It wasn’t an overly passionate kiss like earlier, but one that held the sweet promise of things to come.
“Me too.”
Chapter Seventeen
Michael
Waking up with Callum in my arms was quickly becoming one of my favorite things. The last two days he had kept the shop closed while I had recovered from my allergic reaction. We’d stayed in bed, except for the times one of us had needed the restroom, or we had needed food. Those were the times I wished Callum was able to twitch his nose, or snap his fingers, and make food just appear. But after hearing about the whole turning his ex into a frog incident, I was good with traipsing downstairs to the kitchen, where he planted me firmly in a chair while he fixed us something to eat.
After the hospital had released me, Callum had driven us back to his house, and then bundled me into bed. I’d been so exhausted I hadn’t protested. Itfelt really nice having someone take care of me. Really nice. I had never wanted anyone in my life before, beyond a few close friendships. But never a lover, a partner. Someone to share the little intimacies of everyday life.
Callum made me want all kinds of things I had always turned my nose up at.
And it didn’t bother me like I thought it would.
Instead, I was fully embracing it. Enjoying every second I got to spend with him.
We’d spent the last couple of days napping, watching movies and sitcoms, and just learning little things about each other. Like how Callum hated horror movies but loved psychological thrillers. We both loved the same comedies, and neither of us were into rom-coms. Though he had blushingly admitted to having a thing for Hallmark Christmas movies. I was kind of looking forward to spending a day watching them with him.
Callum Turner was turning me into a complete sap.
He’d even forced me to watchHocus Pocus, and I had to admit, I liked it. Not as much as Callum seemed to, but he was a pretty die-hard fan. It might take me a couple more watches to be on his level.
Last night I had insisted that he couldn’t keep the store closed another day. He had already rearranged enough readings because of me. And I knew there were online orders that were waiting to be packaged and shipped out. The Witch’s Brew did a brisk online business, and fromwhat I had seen, they did a fair amount in walk-ins and repeat customers. Salem was rife with tourists year-round, but October especially saw a surge, and they had no trouble finding their way to the shop.
Unlike other mornings, today I let my hands wander over Callum’s sleep warmed body. He was snuggled into me, little spoon to my big. My thigh was over his, trapping him, and my nose was buried in the crook of his neck. One hand skimmed up his flat stomach, circling a nipple until it hardened and nubbed.
Callum moaned, his back arching and his plump ass pushing against my morning wood. It fit perfectly into his crease, even through our tight boxer briefs. Pulling him closer to me, I flexed my hips just enough to enjoy the slight friction.
Placing a hot kiss on his neck, I pulled the skin between my teeth and sucked briefly before releasing his pale flesh. Leaning up to see my handiwork, I watched as the spot turned a pretty shade of pink. I didn’t think I had done it hard enough to leave a bruise, but I was suddenly overcome with the need to mark him. I wanted everyone to know Callum was mine.
Leaving his neck for the time being, I trailed open mouthed kisses across his shoulder, my fingers playing with his nipples. One then the other, until they were both standing at attention, hard, and begging for my mouth on them. Callum’s heart was beating fast beneath my palm,his ass grinding against my hard dick, soft, breathy moans escaping his mouth.
Every sound he made had my dick jerking in my briefs, the tip making a wet patch with my leaking precum. I loved the sounds he made; loved that I caused him to sound like that.
I wasn’t sure if he was even fully awake, but when he turned his head for an awkward kiss, I had my answer. Capturing his lips, my tongue demanded entrance, but he pulled back, blinking at me owlishly.
“Morning breath,” he mumbled, then added, “what time is it?”
Leaning over his shoulder, I glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Barely seven. And I don’t care about your morning breath.”
