Page 28 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)

“What are you doing?” she squeaked, giggles escaping her lips before they moved across my jaw.

When she reached my ear, she nipped the tender flesh, and I dug my fingers into the pliant muscle of her ass.

I’d never been an ‘ass man,’ but as my hands tightened around her, all I could picture was her bent in front of me, my handprint red and angry against her skin as she moaned my name.

Something like a growl rumbled in my throat when she sucked my earlobe into her mouth, and I hastened my steps.

Throwing open the back passenger door, I sat her on the bench seat and claimed her mouth with mine.

Time ceased to exist. The music faded into nothing as every synapse and thought focused solely on Magnolia.

On the sounds she made as I sucked the skin where her shoulder met her neck or dipped my tongue into the hollow at her clavicle.

Every nerve lit up like fireworks when her hands delved beneath my shirt, my muscles jumping as she tenderly ran her hands along my back.

I wanted to explore her in the same way, but I needed her consent.

I needed to know she wanted this as badly as I did.

“Magnolia,” I breathed, resting my brow on hers as her hands continued to push my shirt upward. “Mags, baby, I need to know—ow, fuck!” I slapped the side of my neck, pulling my palm away to reveal a little splat of black and red.

A motherfucking mosquito.

“Taylor?” she asked hesitantly, her brows pinched together as she nervously brushed her skirt back down from where it had gathered at the tops of her thighs. Beautiful, sun-kissed thighs I’d barely gotten to explore; one of which was decorated with a portrait of… was that Audrey Hepburn?

Groaning, I leaned forward until our noses brushed. “Mosquitos.”

“Pardon?”

“There are mosquitos, sunshine.”

“They might as well be the state bird. There are always mosquitos, cowboy.”

“That mouth,” I ground out before pressing my lips to hers, relishing the way she melted into the kiss before I broke it off.

“I am aware, Magnolia.” I slowly trailed my lips along her jaw, sealing each statement with a kiss.

“But the first time we do this…” kiss. “The first time I get to feel you…” kiss.

“Get to taste you?” kiss. “It’s not going to be with tiny vampires flying around.

” Dragging my lips to her ear, I whispered, “If anything is going to be biting you, it’s going to be me. ”

A shiver ran through her body, and I pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek as I pulled back. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted as her chest rose and fell with labored breaths. “Any questions?”

Seeming to give herself a mental shake, she leaned back on her hands, tilting her head to the side, a smile that could bewitch a soul painting her full, thoroughly kissed lips. “Just one.” When I raised a brow, she asked, “You got that house yet?”

My nostrils flared as I stepped back into her space and pulled her behind the knees until her ass was nearly hanging off the seat, forcing her to wrap her legs around me to keep from falling. “Baby, if I had a house, we’d be there already."

“Pity,” she whispered as wide baby blues locked onto mine and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

Fucking hell.

The car ride back to Magnolia’s house was uncomfortable, to say the least. My dick was painfully hard behind the zipper of my jeans, and it seemed Mags was just as tortured as I was.

Every few minutes, she’d squirm in her seat, readjust her dress, or mess with her seatbelt.

I couldn’t miss how she clenched her thighs together anytime our eyes met or the hungry way she looked at me when she thought I was paying attention to the road and not her.

News flash: I was always paying attention.

By the time we reached her house, a gentle breeze could have snapped the tension between us.

But there was nowhere for us to go to work it out.

She lived with her aunt and sister. I lived with my goddamn parents and occasionally my sister.

Screw our schedules being unconducive to a relationship; everything about our situation was fucked.

We were in our thirties and dating like teenagers.

As I cut the engine, Magnolia blew out a heavy breath through pursed lips and turned my way. “Can you help me with the bags?”

I held her gaze for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, baby. Hang tight, and I’ll grab your door.”

“You don’t—” I was already out the door and on my way to hers before she could finish. When I pulled it open, she rolled her eyes but gave me a demure smile. “You don’t have to do that.”

“A, I’m pretty sure my mother would smack me upside my head if I didn’t. But aside from that, and more importantly, B, I want to.”

Something like shock flashed in her eyes before she quickly masked the emotion.

It made me wonder how many douchebags she’d been with who didn’t treat her like the goddess she was.

Then a pang of guilt slammed into my chest at the realization I had been one of them.

It didn’t matter that it had happened what seemed like lifetimes ago.

I had contributed to the look in her eyes—the one that said she didn’t think she was worthy of having her door opened for her, and God only knows what else.

We worked in silence, each of us taking trips back and forth to the car until all the bags were lined up on the porch by the door. “You sure you don’t want help carrying them in?” I asked as she turned her key in the lock.

“I’m sure. It’s not that many, and I don’t want to risk waking Aunt Evie or Maddie up. It’s fine, really. I’ve got it.”

Not that many? I was pretty sure there were at least thirty bags surrounding our feet, but I didn’t want to overstep her boundaries. So instead of arguing, I stepped into her space and cupped her cheek in my palm. “I know you can do it, sunshine. But that doesn’t mean you always have to.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes darting between mine as the tension between us tugged tighter.

“For what?” My face moved toward hers on its own accord, inching ever closer like magnets drawn together.

“Tonight. The store, the picnic. Everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Magnolia.”

“I know, but I want to,” she echoed back my words, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Goodnight, sunshine.” I pressed my lips to her brow, letting them linger for a few seconds as her hands gripped my shirt at my waist.

When I pulled away, she whispered, “Goodnight, cowboy,” and let me go.

I watched her watch me leave through the rearview mirror until she was nothing more than a blip, then focused on getting home.

I had work the following night, which meant I usually slept most of the day, but I needed to make sure I called Cindy first thing in the morning.

My bid on the house had been accepted, and we were in the waiting game of inspections and escrow and everything else that came with closing on a house.

Six weeks. That’s how long Cindy said it would take for everything to line up and go through.

I knew I needed to be patient and that the wait would be worth it in the long run.

But I wanted to move in—not just because I was ready to have my own space and roots, but because, in my professional opinion, there was no way in hell I would survive another cockblock.

Between Halloween, the freaking cat, and those pesky mosquitos, my balls were no longer blue; they were purple.

I needed a cold shower… probably two.