Page 67 of Hooked on a Witch
Chapter Fifteen
Time passed while she floated. Giving up control had been ah-maazing.
Eventually, she had the energy to say, “I brought pie.”
“What?”
“Pie.”
“What kind of pie?”
She rolled to face him. “I made peach pie.”
“What possessed you to make pie?”
She smiled and touched his cheek. “Sometimes you just need pie.”
“Then let’s try this pie. I’m a connoisseur of pies, you know.”
She sat up, suddenly self-conscious to be naked. He got off the sofa and stalked into his bedroom, returning with his jeans on, and threw her a T-shirt. It covered her all the way down to just above her knees.
He wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her close. “I’d say clothes aren’t necessary because I enjoy you without them, but I couldn’t give your pie its due if you were naked.”
“I’ll have to remember that for the future when I need you distracted.”
“Only if you want me inside you in the kitchen.”
“Or wherever.” She bit her lip against laughing when his breath caught. He liked the “or wherever” offer.
“You’re a dangerous witch.”
“Can be.” She sauntered into his kitchen. “Plates?”
He removed two from a cabinet while she found a knife and two forks. She served him a generous piece. Both selected a barstool next to the counter.
He held up a large bite. “The moment of truth.”
She gave him a go-ahead nod while she nibbled on her piece. It was good, but she’d known it’d be good. Pie from a witch, especially one of the Pleiades ladies, was baked with… Her sight misted as she remembered her mother’s words every time she made pies. “Made of love, spice, and a little bit of something extra.”No magic. Just love. She blinked away the moisture, hoping Merck hadn’t noticed.
“Mmm,” he murmured as he took a second bite.
“How’s it rate, Mr. Pie Expert?”
“It’s pretty good.”
No oohing or aahing?
“Pretty good? That’s the most delicious pie you’ve ever tasted. Admit it.”
He took another bite without replying. And another, until he’d finished the entire piece. With a serious face he asked, “You actually baked this? Alone?”
“Yes. I like to bake pie. I can also cook other things. The kitchen and I get along quite well, and I was taught by a Southern cook master. My mom.” She bit back a sarcastic remark at his lack of appreciation. Insecurity lodged itself in her mind. Had she messed it up? It tasted right to her.
“You didn’t put any sort of potion into it or weave a spell over it?”
“No, I didn’t cast a spell. If I tried to mix up a potion, it would probably kill you since I suck at mixing them. My best friend is an expert, though.”
“Is that a threat?” His lips eased upward when he met her gaze. “I think the pie is…”
