Page 92 of Charmed, I'm Sure
When he collapsed beside me, his chest heaving, I felt the echo of his heartbeat against my skin. I’d never been so sated in my life. Neverhad my needs met in such an expert manner and I knew that any man who tried to come after Taylor would pale in comparison.
But I didn’t want any other man.
I wanted Taylor.
I wanted him between my thighs six ways from Sunday, and all the pleasure that promised. But more than that, I wanted all the things he’d promised while we stood in his driveway. The front porch swinging and singing in the kitchen. But there was always that little voice in the back of my mind that liked to rear her ugly head at the most inconvenient times.
He doesn’t know therealyou.
Only this time, she was right. He didn’t. He didn’t know the rumors surrounding my family were real, and telling him terrified me.
“Mags?” Taylor’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned my head to meet his gaze. “Where’d you go, sunshine?” he asked as he pressed a kiss to my shoulder.
“Sorry, I just got lost in my head for a minute.”
“Everything okay?”
Concern filled his eyes, and I rolled onto my side to cup his cheek. “Everything is perfect.”
Pressing my lips to his stoked a fire in my belly, desire sparking and spreading as our kiss deepened, growing more demanding with each passing second.
The voice in the back of my head could shut the hell up. I wasn’t about to let her ruin this—wasn’t about to let her snuff out the joy of being wrapped in his arms. Taylor finding out I was a witch? That was a problem for future Magnolia.
Swinging my leg over his waist, I straddled his hips and rocked against him. I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t even noticedwhen he’d gotten up to remove the condom. The silky feel of him beneath me nearly made me fall apart.
“Again? Already?” he asked with a low chuckle, his hands framing my hips and guiding me along his length.
“I’m ready if you are.”
His laugh was warm, rich, and it made my heart feel like it might burst right out of my chest.
“Baby, when it comes to you, I’m always ready.”
Taylor’s hand slid up to cradle my neck, pulling me down to meet his lips. He kissed me until every thought, every worry, evaporated, leaving nothing but him.
24
Shit, the cinnamon rolls!
Taylor
Ihatedmornings.Probablymore than most people. But I despised them even more when I woke up panicking on my day off, my brain conveniently forgetting that detail. Not that I could blame it—working every weekend for the past month and a half would do that.
Groaning, I tossed my phone back onto the makeshift nightstand—a random box that still needed to be unpacked—and flopped onto the bed, crossing my fingers that my frantic movements hadn’t woken Magnolia.
Last night had exceeded every expectation I’d dared to hope for, surpassing the dreams that had sustained me these past few months. It had taken her a bit to open up about what she needed, but once she had, watching her repeatedly unravel beneath my hands was a memory I’d carry for the rest of my life.
Smiling, I rolled to my side and reached for her. My fingers, expecting soft, warm skin, brushed cool emptiness instead.
Sitting up, I grabbed my glasses from the box beside the bed and looked around. Her side of the bed was untouched—the covers pulled back neatly, the pillows propped against the headboard. The bathroom was dark and empty, and the bedroom door was closed. If it weren’t for her clothes still scattered across the floor, I might havethought she’d slipped out without saying goodbye. Which raised an interesting question—was she walking around the house naked?
Dragging myself out of bed, I pulled on sweatpants and headed for the door. The sweet scent of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee hit me as soon as I opened it. I let out an appreciative sigh. I could get used to this—waking up to coffee and baked goods.
The smell lured me through the house. Sunlight poured into the living room, bathing the space in buttery light and highlighting the sea of packed boxes. I hesitated, half a step toward the nearest box, the urge to organize tugging at me.
Then music drifted from the kitchen, along with Magnolia’s soft singing, cutting through the stillness.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I approached the kitchen and leaned casually—at least, I hoped it looked casual—against the doorway. Not that it mattered. Her back was to me.
