Page 17 of Head Witch in Charge (The Sherwood Witches #2)

LeLe takes in a deep breath like she’s gearing up to go to battle, one she won’t win.

As a Sherwood, she probably doesn’t see it.

Really, when has someone like her ever not gotten her way?

The family and everyone in it are almost universally adored.

Being a Svensen, however, means that I know firsthand what it’s like to be looked down upon and to lose.

I know when to fight dirty and when to back off and find another way to win. This is one of those times.

“We have a long day tomorrow. The bed is huge. I’ll stay on my side. We can put pillows down the middle. I promise no funny business.” I hold out my last finger to LeLe. “Pinkie promise.”

She glares at me but curls her finger around mine.

A shot of awareness blasts its way straight to my dick.

Her eyes darken and her lips part. Every single nerve in my body is tuned in on her, only her.

The air thickens around us and I swear it’s like the rest of the world disappears.

It’s just LeLe, me, and that undeniable attraction that is so strong it’s palpable.

She must feel it too, because her eyes go wide a half a second before she pulls her hand away.

She narrows her eyes, but her cheeks are still flush with desire. “You don’t even want to imagine the hex I’d put on you if you do anything to even remotely piss me off any more than you already have.”

Eustis lets out a croak of a laugh, the sound dry and rusty, before turning his back on us and walking out of the room.

“Young love,” he says as he ambles down the hall, gliding his fingers along the chair rail. “Yes, Amarilla, they sound just like we used to.”

I’m way too fucking tired to think about that old man dating a sentient house, so I close the door. Really, some things a person doesn’t need to know a damn thing about.

By the time I turn around, LeLe has a line of pillows going down the middle of the heart bed and is already under the covers with her eyes closed and her arms crossed over her chest like a vampire.

“Good night to you too, wife,” I say as I reach behind my neck, pull my shirt over my head, and make my way to the bed.

Her eyes snap open.

“You know I’m not—” Whatever she is about to say next fizzles out when she looks at me.

Her gaze travels over me, slow and hungry. I know that look. That’s how we ended up naked in one of the curtained-off poolside bungalows while the rest of Vegas played in the sun.

When she looks at me like this, it’s easy to believe I could be that man she saw then instead of who I really am even though I know there’s not a chance of it actually being true.

My jaw hurts from clenching it tight as I get under the covers, sticking as close to the edge of my side of the bed as I can before turning out the light.

I lie there staring at the ceiling, knowing there’s no way I’m going to sleep tonight, not with LeLe this close.

The mattress jiggles with movement half a second before LeLe says, “You said not all of your family are awful. Who did you mean?”

The tightness in my chest is back and a prickly sensation inches up my spine.

“My sister, Sigrid, just wants to stay tucked into the library reading books, while my brother, Cy, spends almost every day in his laboratory trying to brew up new spells. Neither of them asked to be a Svensen. They just got stuck with it. Still, they don’t act like Svensens, and yeah, I know how we act.

But Cy and Sigrid? They’re better. They’re different.

” Like a chump, my voice gets all thin and tight at the end, and it’s all I can do to keep my shit together.

What is it about this woman that fucks with me so hard?

“They’re both good despite all of our family’s shit surrounding them. ”

“But not you?” she asks, her voice so quiet I almost don’t hear.

“No, not me,” I say, forcing myself to sound as if I don’t give a shit—a skill I learned by my tenth birthday once Dad realized he could use what I cared about to get me to do what he wanted. “And you know that for yourself already, don’t you?”

The reality of it is my birthright as the Svensen heir. It’s who I have to be.

All the things Witchingdom attributes to me?

It’s mostly true. The thefts, the backroom dealing, the schemes petty and large—they can’t pin them on me, but they know I’m responsible.

Maybe some of them hold it against me, but the majority just see it as the universe evening itself out as nature tends to do.

For every Sherwood family with pure intentions, there has to be a Svensen family that’s always on the take.

Next to me, LeLe lets out a determined breath. I can’t see her, but I know what face she’s making. No doubt, she has that stubborn tilt to her jaw and her lips are pressed together in a straight line, and if she’s annoyed, she’s probably squinting with her right eye.

I’m holding my breath in anticipation of whatever withering put-down she’s about to deliver when she moves her hand under the covers, finding an opening in the pillow wall, and her pinkie finger hooks around mine like a promise to believe I’m more than my last name.

It only lasts for a few seconds, and I can’t breathe or think.

Then she lets go and turns over without a good-night.

It all happens so fast that I’m not even sure it happened at all.

What in the hell was that?

The back of my hand is tingling with awareness, my dick has woken up, and I am one hundred percent awake to the point that I’m not sure I’m ever going to need sleep again.

Was she trying to comfort me or torture me with that touch? Honestly, I’m not sure which option would be worse.