Page 47 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)

Love Shack

Magnolia

Everything around me blurred, except for the sapphire blues searing into my own. Clothes fluttered to the ground like feathers. Hands moved languidly along skin, tracing curves and muscles, while lips parted and teeth nipped.

Pillowy softness met my back, a sharp contrast to the fiery line of kisses trailing down my sternum, broad palms sliding along my sides before cupping my breasts. My fingers wove their way through chestnut locks, silky strands slipping between them as I arched beneath his touch.

My back bowed as he filled me, his name falling from my lips like a plea or a prayer as he rocked into me with agonizing slowness. His hands never stilled, his mouth a constant murmur of sweet words that washed over me like sun-soaked ocean waves.

“More, Taylor, please. I need more,” I begged, sweat-slicked skin sliding against his as his lips traversed my neck and shoulder.

Sitting up, Taylor pulled me into his lap, guiding me until I was straddling him, his cock nudging insistently at my center. Bliss like I’d never known radiated through every cell in my body as I sank down onto him, taking him fully.

We moved together like a call and answer, giving and taking all we wanted, all we needed.

Pleasure built, coiling tight and fierce inside me, the crescendo rising with each thrust. Grunts and moans, whispered affirmations and praise filled the room, a symphony of need that made my soul sing.

I was teetering right on the edge, right at the precipice of something divine.

All it would take was one… more…

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Something between a groan and a whine escaped as I rolled over, slapping my hand around blindly until I found my phone on the nightstand. Yanking it under the covers, I silenced the infernal thing and shoved it under my pillow.

Of all the times for my alarm to go off, it had to be while I was reliving the amazing night I’d had with Taylor?

Mother above, the universe had jokes.

After the shitshow that was most of the Winter Festival, he’d flipped the night on its head with one simple sentence that still had my head reeling hours later.

Of all the people on this Mother-damned planet, he’d picked me.

Was choosing me.

He was falling in love… with me.

Warmth washed through me as his confession echoed in my mind, the way his eyes had locked onto mine, pleading with me to hear him.

And I had.

I’d heard him. Felt him, from top to toe, and cemented his words in my heart until all the sneers around us floated away like dust in the wind.

Cracking my eyes open just a smidge, I peeked out from under the covers. Late morning light filtered through Taylor’s bedroom curtains, illuminating the space and highlighting one glaring fact—he wasn’t here.

Breathing deeply, I rolled toward his side of the bed—which, I guessed, technically was the whole bed, but that was neither here nor there. My chest warmed as my gaze landed on something lying across his pillow.

A small bundle of mistletoe, tied with a red ribbon and a tiny gold bell, perched atop a folded piece of paper.

For a moment, unease slithered through me. After the last unsuspecting note I’d received, I had to take a deep breath and remind myself—I knew, for a fact, this one was from Taylor.

And that someone wasn’t trying to scare me off… again.

At least, not at this very second anyway.

Sitting up, I wrapped the sheets around myself and picked up the berries and note, the bell’s delicate chime ringing through the quiet room as I flipped the paper open.

You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t bear to wake you.

Coffee is set to brew and should be finished by the time you wake up.

There are also pastries on the counter, though they’re not as good as yours.

I work until 7 p.m. tonight, but I’ll text or call you when I can.

Oh, and hold onto that mistletoe. I have plans for it later.

Toe-curling thoughts raced through my mind at his final words. Visions of one—or both—of us holding that bunch of berries over intimate places, teasing and tasting until we were a tangled mess of limbs, had me desperate to go back to sleep and let my subconscious work its magic.

But my stomach growled, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee called my name like a siren’s song.

Begrudgingly, I rolled out of bed.

After throwing on a pair of Taylor’s sweats—because why not?—I grabbed my phone and made my way toward the kitchen.

With liquid nirvana procured, I padded to the breakfast nook. A plastic clamshell of raspberry danishes sat on the table, and a—

Wait.

Was that a key?

It was.

A mother-forking house key.

Beneath it sat another folded piece of paper, but I couldn’t seem to make my hands, arms, lungs, or brain work as that little silver piece of metal glinted up at me from the tabletop.

A house key.

Were we even there yet?

Apparently, he thought so.

But staring at the physical representation of where he saw us, suddenly, I wasn’t so sure.

Hands trembling, I nudged the key aside like it was radioactive and picked up the note.

Don’t freak out.

Who am I kidding, you’re probably spiraling right now, aren’t you?

“Just a tad,” I mumbled, willing my hands to quit shaking as I kept reading.

Take a deep breath, sunshine. This doesn’t have to be some big proclamation… though it seems pretty tame compared to what I said last night.

“Psh, speak for yourself, sir.”

Great. Now I was having a full-blown conversation with a piece of paper.

It’s just a key, Magnolia. It’s not going to bite you or harm you in any way.

But if you’re staying at the house, you need a way to lock up if and when you leave and I’m not there.

See? Practical.

He had a point.

And it was hard not to notice that he hadn’t called it his house. Now that I thought about it, he never did. It was always the house. Something about that realization settled my anxiety just a fraction.

If you’re not ready to keep it, I completely understand. But I’d like for you to.

Either way, this goes at your pace, baby.

So, take a deep breath, drink your coffee, eat some pastries, and just… think about it, okay?

By the time the breath I’d taken left my lungs, my phone chimed.

Taylor

You’re spiraling, aren’t you?

Blessed Mother. Did he have a sensor on this thing? I flipped the paper back and forth, scanning for an electronic bug like something out of a James Bond movie.

Was I being overdramatic? Maybe. But I couldn’t help it.

Magnolia

Did you add cameras to the house without telling me?

Taylor

*crying laughing emoji* No, but I’m assuming that I did, in fact, time that correctly.

Magnolia

A key, Taylor? Really?

Taylor

Stop overthinking it, sunshine.

Magnolia

Do you really think we’re there?

Taylor

I do. But, baby, I will meet you wherever you’re at.

I reread his words until they blurred.

Was I there?

I wasn’t sure.

But as my gaze dropped to the key, I couldn’t deny the warmth swelling in my chest. Maybe I wasn’t all the way there—but he’d met me step for step in every way.

So maybe… just this once… I could meet him.

I picked up the key, letting it dangle from my index finger, and finally noticed the keyring attached. Large and shaped like an old motel tag, its teal enamel coating shimmered in the morning light. One side read Est. 2025, but when I flipped it over, I let out a breathy laugh.

Love Shack stood out in metallic gold letters against the teal.

Magnolia

Love Shack?

Taylor

Hey! You picked it up, that’s progress!

Magnolia

How do you know I hadn’t picked it up before now? Hmmmmm?

Taylor

Because that would have been the first thing you sent me, sunshine.

Magnolia

Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, saving lives or something?

Taylor

Probably.

Magnolia

Worst. Doctor. Ever.

Taylor

I really should go, though. Text you later?

Magnolia

You better.

Taylor

Have you stopped spiraling?

Magnolia

Maybe…

Are you sure this thing works?

Taylor

Guess you’ll have to use it and find out. *winking kiss emoji*

See you later, sunshine.

Chuckling to myself, I sat down at the table, popped open the clamshell, and inhaled the buttery, sweet scent of raspberry jam.

Maybe I was just really hungry, but the moan that rumbled up my throat at the first bite was damn near pornographic.

They might not have been as good as mine, but I’d be damned if a free pastry didn’t taste just as sweet.

I’d just popped the last bite of my third one into my mouth when my phone vibrated against the table, followed by the unmistakable chorus of Ms. Jackson. I let it play for a beat before swiping to answer.

“Hey, Jae. What’s up?”

“Uh, hey, Mags.” Her voice was uneven. “I, uh. I don’t know how to tell you this, but you need to get down to CharCutie.”

Red and blue lights strobed through the front of CharCutie, casting flickering shadows against the shattered shards of glass littering the black-and-white tile and spilling onto the sidewalk outside.

Tiny fragments, like crushed diamonds, reflected in the fluorescent lights and early evening sun, crunching beneath my heel as I stepped forward.

All that time. All that hard work and love I’d poured into this place—fractured and broken, much like the decimated front windows.

I hadn’t even planned on coming in today. Jaelyn was scheduled to open around lunch. But when she arrived, this was what she’d found.

Bricks through my motherfucking windows.

Not just one or two—all four of the massive panes, along with the front door.

I’d been in disbelief since her frantic phone call, refusing to believe that even in a town that hated me so much, someone would stoop this low simply because of who I was dating.

But I’d been wrong.

Oh, so very wrong.