Page 46 of Bewitched by the Wicked Witch (The Bewitching Hour #4)

"Don't," I interrupted with the kind of deadly calm that had been giving people nightmares for years.

"Don't you dare try to protect me from this.

They killed my parents, Callum. They've been murdering innocent people for decades.

I'm not hiding in my underground library while other people seek justice for my family. "

He studied my face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "You're right. This is your fight as much as anyone's."

"Good," I said, settling back into my chair with renewed purpose. "Because I have some very specific ideas about how to handle magical supremacists, and most of them involve creative applications of transformation magic."

"Sage, my beautiful witch," he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. "I'm so sorry for the pain I caused you. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was break both our hearts."

"We were young and stupid," I said, leaning into his touch despite myself. "We let other people's machinations tear us apart. But I'm done letting the past define us."

"Then let's rewrite our story," he said softly. "Let's build something no one can destroy."

I didn't answer with words. I crashed my mouth to his, pouring years of longing and regret into a single, consuming kiss. He met me with equal force, his tongue tangling with mine as he backed me toward the firelight, fingers already tugging at the hem of my shirt.

Clothes fell away in frantic, fumbled motions.

By the time my back hit the plush rug before the fireplace, we were half-naked, skin brushing skin, our bodies magnetized with heat and need.

His hands were everywhere, skimming my ribs, cupping my breasts, mapping the planes of me like I was something precious and long-lost.

"Gods, I missed you," he growled against my throat, trailing kisses from my jaw to my collarbone. "Every inch of you."

I arched into him, breathless, already slick with desire. He kissed down my body, his mouth finding one nipple and sucking it hard enough to make me gasp. His hand played with the other, rolling it between his fingers until I was writhing beneath him.

At some point, with a grin and a growl, he lifted me easily and carried me to the bed. I wrapped my legs around him, laughing softly into his mouth as he dropped me onto the mattress like I weighed nothing at all.

He crawled over me like a man starving, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. His chest brushed my bare breasts, the friction of skin-on-skin sending sparks shooting through me.

"You are so damn beautiful," he whispered. "And mine."

My breath hitched. "Then take me. Please."

He let go of my hands only to drag them down my body, worshiping every inch before settling between my legs.

His mouth found the wet heat of me, and I cried out, clutching the sheets as he licked and sucked with maddening skill.

His tongue circled my clit, slow and teasing, before diving deeper, tasting me like he'd been dreaming of this moment for years.

"Oh, gods, Callum," I moaned, my thighs trembling around his head. "I'm already so close..."

But just as the tension began to crest, he pulled away with a mischievous grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Not yet," he murmured. "I want to come inside you. I want to feel you fall apart around me."

He rose above me, muscles flexing as he gripped my hips, guiding himself to my entrance. I felt the thick press of him against my core; hot, hard, and impossible to ignore.

"I need you," I whispered, hips lifting. "Now."

He didn't make me wait. With a slow, steady thrust, he pushed inside, inch by glorious inch, until he was fully seated within me. We both groaned, the stretch of him delicious and overwhelming.

"You're perfect," he rasped, pressing his forehead to mine. "So tight. So warm. You feel like home."

I lifted my hips to meet his, crying out as he pulled almost all the way out, then drove back in with a force that made the headboard thud against the wall.

We fell into a rhythm, deep, powerful strokes that had me clinging to him with nails and moans. His name left my lips in broken syllables. His body moved over mine, claiming me with every movement. Sweat slicked our skin, mingling as our breaths grew ragged.

My orgasm built fast, hot and pulsing at the base of my spine. "Callum... I can't hold it..."

"Then don't," he growled, speeding up, angling his hips just right until he hit the spot that made me see stars. "Let go for me, Sage. I want to feel you fall apart."

I shattered around him, crying out as pleasure tore through me, wave after crashing wave. My walls pulsed around his length, and he cursed under his breath, burying himself deep with one final drive before following me into release.

"I love you," he murmured against my neck as he moved inside of me, forcing my orgasm to ride wave after wave as I clenched around him.

"I love you more," I whispered back, completely wrecked and entirely his.

Then, with one last drive, he shouted out his release, filling me with his warmth and love as the room filled with an otherworldly sound.

As he collapsed on top of me, our breaths came in harsh pants, our hearts racing in unison.

With his release, another wave of building ecstasy wrapped around me and detonated from our passion.

I threw my head back, Callum's name falling from my lips like a prayer.

He kissed me with such sweetness, his gaze locked on mine as he shuddered and gasped.

We clung to each other in the aftermath, our heartbeats gradually slowing to match each other as the sensation of finally being whole again washed over us.

"I never got over you, Sage," he whispered against my skin, his voice rough with years of suppressed emotion.

"Every day for five years, I've wondered if you were okay, if you were happy, if you'd found someone who deserved you.

And every day, I hated myself a little more for not being brave enough to find out. "

"You're here now," I said softly, my fingers tracing the lines of guilt that had etched themselves around his eyes over the years.

"I'm here now," he agreed. "And if you'll let me, I'll spend the rest of our lives making sure you never doubt how much you mean to me again."

I traced lazy patterns on his chest, enjoying the way his breathing hitched when my fingers found particularly sensitive spots.

"You know," I mused, my voice taking on that familiar devious edge that suggested dangerous territory ahead, "for someone who spent five years pining away like a tragic Victorian heroine, you certainly haven't lost your touch. "

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Oh, it absolutely is. Though I have to admit, I'm slightly disappointed that your dramatic suffering didn't manifest in some deliciously tortured poetry or at least a few paintings of my ethereal beauty." I grinned up at him with mock disappointment. "Very inconsiderate of you, really."

"Next time I'll be sure to document my anguish more artistically," he promised, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Perhaps a tragic ballad or two about your cruel beauty and my inevitable doom."

"Much better. I expect nothing less than full Gothic romance treatment from my future husband." The word slipped out before I could stop it, and I felt him tense slightly beneath me.

"Future husband?" he repeated, and I could hear the hope threading through his voice like light through darkness .

I lifted my head to meet his gaze, my expression softening just enough to show him the truth beneath my teasing.

"Well, we can't very well scandalize the town more than we already have.

Besides," I added with a smirk that was pure satisfaction, "someone needs to keep you from making any more spectacularly stupid decisions. "

"I love you, my beautifully twisted witch," he murmured, pulling me closer.

"Good," I replied, settling back against his chest with a satisfied sigh. "Because you're stuck with me now. And fair warning, I hold grudges like other people collect stamps. Very carefully, and with impressive dedication to the hobby."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice as sleep began to claim us both, wrapped in each other's arms and the promise of whatever delightfully chaotic future awaited us.