Page 35 of Charmed

She retrained her focus to the flat screen like he wasn't there. "I don't know. But the blonde chick is about to learn the dude with Beiber hair is really Santa Claus's son and he has to take over North Pole duties. I think it'll put a hitch in their love affair."

His lungs collapsed. Somehow, he'd walked into his worst version of what he assumed hell resembled. Fiona Galloway had vacated the premises and in her place was...well, he hadn't a clue. But he was frightened. Very, very frightened.

"You're watching a Christmas movie in June?" And a cheesy one at that?

"Soap opera reruns are done for the day. The movies are kinda meh, but they all follow the same formulaic plot and don't hurt my brain. I like the predictability."

Okay, that was it. He was going to lose his shit all over the room.

He strode over, snatched the remote, turned off the TV, put the controller out of her reach, and then sat on the coffee table in front of her so she had nowhere to look but at him. "Hi. Remember me?"

In answer, she shoved a kernel of popcorn in her mouth.

He took the bowl away and tossed it over his shoulder. Popcorn scattered across the wooden floor planks behind him, but he kept his gaze locked on her. The plastic bowl made a whoosh, whoosh, whoosh sound circling on its base until settling.

Decisively swallowing, she slowly blinked. "You made a mess."

"The cat will eat it."

"I don't have a cat."

"Then I'll buy you one. What kind of witch doesn't have a cat, anyway?"

Without taking her unaffected gaze from his, she reached beside her and replaced the popcorn with gummy bears. A green and a red one made it to her mouth, but a yellow landed on her shirt between her breasts.

He took the candy from her, too. It joined the popcorn on the floor.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his thighs. "This is a drastic response to getting your magick back, don't you think?"

"Pretty sure I'm under-reacting, actually."

Smart ass. "I'm told you're not at full capacity yet. Wouldn't practice help?"

Up went both brows. Progress. She flicked her fingers, and the strands on his head ruffled. Except, butterfly wings would've created more current.

"There. I exercised."

A sigh, and he decided to go for brutal honesty. Man card be damned. "If you were buck naked and holding a gun to my head, I'd be less freaked out right now. You're scaring the ever-living holy shit out of me, babe. Talk to me."

"I don't own a gun. The naked part I can do, though."

Tempting. Damn her.

He dropped his head in his hands, frustrated, worried, and two seconds from a meltdown. Guess her sisters were right. He had to piss her off. He'd lived a good life up to this point. Why not?

"I can't believe I had it wrong all this time." He lifted his gaze to hers. "The first sign of conflict and you hide like a coward."

A blip of anger flared in her eyes.

"And I thought I was the weak one. Turns out, I'm not half the pussy you are."

Her lids narrowed in suspicion. "Reverse psychology is beneath you."

Apparently not. "Snap out of it. I'll make sure you're beneath me."

At the blush tingeing her cheeks and slight inhale, he grew semi-hard in the point three seconds it took for him to stand. Bracing his hands on the back of the couch, he bent and brought his mouth within an angel's whisper of hers. Her pupils dilated in response and her thick lashes fluttered. Those plush lips parted as her gaze lazily, seductively searched his.

"Beneath me," he whispered, brushing his nose with hers. "Above me. Against the wall. Bent over a table. I don't care, babe. Bring back the Fiona I know and want to strangle, and I'll take you any way you want." He drew her lower lip between his teeth. "All night."

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