Page 21 of Magic & Matchmaking
Riven’s smile turned mischievous. “She underestimated how hungry I was.” Something about his words felt feral, a deeper meaning to them that made me look away as my cheeks heated.
I trailed a finger over the silk of the tablecloth. “We spent weeks trying to figure out why you were breaking out in hives every time you stepped foot in my dormitory.”
“Only to find the hex hanging under my chair.”
The same chair he sat in every night to eat dinner. I’d been furious at the time, and my roommate ended up getting suspended over the entire ordeal. I swallowed, remembering what came after. Riven had declared we needed to celebrate being rid of the “wicked” witch. He brought over wine, and we drank. A lot. And then... well, then he’d leaned over to kiss me. I’d wanted to kiss him back. But right before our lips met, a telegram arrived, notifying me that my father had suffered a heart attack.
“I’ve changed, you know,” Riven said, snapping me out of my memories.
I looked up at him. “Oh? You’re telling me a famous bard like yourself doesn’t have others to prepare his meals for him? You’re on the road all the time.”
“I like to cook.” He slipped his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I make campfire meals. Karl hunts and skins the animals, but I do the cooking. I learned early on that Karl likes his meat raw and bloody, so if I wanted to eat a proper meal, I’d have to make it myself.”
I wrinkle my nose at the description of the orc’s meal preferences.
“Okay.” I took a step forward. “What happens after dinner?”
His eyes gleamed wickedly. “Well, then comes dessert.”
My skin prickled with his words, with heat, with desire. “Oh,” was all I managed to squeak out.
This was a side of Riven I didn’t normally see. The charm, the flirtation, the innuendos... no wonder he had half the women of the Witchlands—and many men—in love with him.
I picked my empty tea cup off the table and held it up. “This is some strong tea.”
“Don’t you want to know what comes after dessert?” Riven asked.
I backed into the table as he prowled toward me. “What?”
He stopped in front of me, my whole body flushing with the heat of his gaze. Before he could speak, a plate flew off one of the shelves, and I ducked.
“Oh, not this again.” I shot a panicked look at Riven.
“Emma!” He grabbed me and slammed my back to his chest as a cup whizzed by our ears.
I gasped as tins upon tins floated from the shelves, ready to hurtle themselves straight at us. This was an all-out attack. The most aggressive one yet.
“Fuck,” Riven muttered.
“We’re going to die,” I said. “My tea shop is actually going to kill me.”
“No,” Riven said roughly. “It’s not.”
The tins began to shake, probably about to launch right at my head.
Before I could even ask what that meant, Riven swiveled me away from his chest to face him and crushed his mouth to mine. I stiffened, but then his mouth prodded mine open, and I melted into him.
He hoisted me up onto the table, the entire world fading to just hislips, his hands gripping my hips tight, my legs spreading apart as he pushed between them. A moan escaped my mouth, and I reveled under the way his lips tasted, hints of chocolate and cherry still lingering.
He teased my mouth open further, his tongue slipping inside, mingling with mine. I didn’t know where I began and he ended. We were one, and it felt perfect. It felt right. Our kiss deepened, and he pushed me down into the table, the pressure of his hard body feeling so good. Plates and cups clattered to the floor in the distance, and I barely heard it, only able to focus on the sound of his breath, his heady groans as he dug his hips into mine.
I clutched his shirt, balling it up into my fists as he continued to devour me with his mouth, and I responded eagerly. Witch Superior, kissing him was like its own kind of magic.
A crash sounded, and I jolted.
We both shot up at the same time, him standing and me still sitting on the table. His shirt was wrinkled and parted open, his lips red and swollen. I looked down at the shattered glass, and realized we’d knocked the entire tray over, tea leaves spread across the floor, the glass tea kettle broken.
Then I realized everything else had settled back down. The tins of tea sat back on the shelves, exactly where they’d been before. The plates, cups, and cutlery all sat neatly organized like they’d never floated up into the air and threatened to attack.
