Page 33 of Hex and the Kitty (Whispering Pines #9)
THIRTY-THREE
W ith painstaking gentleness, he lowered his mouth to hers. The first brush of his lips sent electricity arcing down her spine. Molly sighed against him, hands sliding up his chest to link behind his neck. The kiss deepened, his mouth moving with exquisite restraint as if he feared she might shatter beneath his passion.
When they broke apart, both breathing heavily, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I should help you clean up.”
It took every ounce of willpower for Molly to step back, though she kept her fingers intertwined with his. “Cleaning first. More of that later.”
His lazy smile sent her heart somersaulting. “Promise?”
“Tiger’s honor,” she teased, reaching for a broom.
They worked side by side, restoring order to the bakery. Warrick moved with efficient grace, lifting toppled shelves with ease while Molly swept up shattered glass and salvaged what treats she could. Their hands brushed frequently, each touch sending zings of awareness through her body. Occasionally she’d catch him watching her, his gaze tracing her movements with undisguised hunger that made her fumble whatever she held.
As darkness fell outside, they finished the last of the cleanup. Molly looked around with satisfaction at her restored bakery—though several displays remained empty, and the faint smell of smoke lingered beneath the air-freshening spell she’d cast.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to find Warrick much closer than expected. Her breath caught at the intensity of his gaze.
“I meant what I said,” he murmured, tucking a curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek. “He won’t hurt you. Not while I draw breath.”
“And I meant what I said,” she countered, pressing her palm against his chest. “We protect each other. Your battle is my battle now.”
Something flared in his eyes—possessive, primal, and unmistakably tender. “How a nightcap stroll?”
The night air kissed their skin as they exited the bakery, Molly locking up with both key and protection spell. Warrick maintained contact as they walked—his hand at the small of her back, fingers intertwined with hers, shoulder brushing against hers—as if he couldn’t bear the thought of breaking connection.
Their footsteps echoed on the cobblestones, conversation flowing easily between them. She told him about Mari’s pregnancy; he shared stories of his twin sisters’ mischievous antics as children. Each revelation bound them closer, building a foundation beneath the undeniable attraction that simmered between them.
When they reached her door, Molly turned to face him. Moonlight silvered his features, catching on the golden flecks in his eyes. Her heartbeat accelerated as his gaze dropped to her lips.
“I should let you rest,” he said, though he made no move to leave.
Molly stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. “Or you could kiss me goodnight.”
A growl rumbled deep in his chest, sending shivers racing down her spine. This time when his mouth claimed hers, restraint evaporated. His kiss burned with barely leashed passion, one hand tangling in her hair while the other pressed against her lower back, molding her body to his. Molly responded with equal fervor, fingers clutching his shoulders as heat exploded between them.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips, seeking entry she eagerly granted. The kiss deepened, turning molten as his hands roamed down her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through her thin blouse. Molly moaned against his mouth, arching into his touch.
When they finally broke apart, both were trembling. Warrick pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.
“If I don’t leave now,” he whispered against her lips, “I won’t leave at all.”