Page 79 of How to Flirt with a Witch

“You think there’s a traitor in CSAMM?”

“We launched an investigation the first time it happened. That was weeks ago. Everyone turned up clean. So we’ve either got a really good liar or the Madsens have a secret means of figuring out where we’re going. Today was…”

I study the side of her face. Her steady breaths calm me, her warm scent giving me a cozy feeling. But her brow is furrowed, her lips turned downward, as if she’s dwelling on what happened with Oaklyn—regretting it, even.

“I don’t want you to blame yourself for bringing me into this,” I say. “I brought myself into it. I’m making my own choices.”

“They’re not very smart choices,” she says with a hint of a smile.

“Bad decisions are my thing. I should tell you about when Alyssa taught me to drive when I was thirteen.”

Natalie sighs and looks at the ceiling, which makes me laugh.

“You’re infuriatingly stubborn, Katie.”

“And you like that about me. Admit it.”

She smiles and doesn’t deny it. My heart thrums.

We’re still holding hands.

“Thank you for telling me this,” I say. The reality that a capable witch was killed by a curse hits hard. It’s possible that Natalie is never going to let me help her, no matter how much I insist I’m okay with the risks.

Her fingers tighten infinitesimally over mine. “Thanks for listening.”

“And thanks for answering my questions earlier—telling me about the different career paths in CSAMM and stuff. I… I liked that you came to class with me. It was nice.” Sociology feels like days ago, but the thrill of having her there with me lingers, a glimmer of happiness beneath everything else.

Natalie’s expression softens. “All of this is going to be detrimental to your degree. You didn’t learn a thing today. You didn’t even attend more than one class.”

I shrug.

The heat of her body beckons me closer, making me want to lean my head on her shoulder and stay like this for a while.

“You know, I’ve never brought anyone into CSAMM before,” she murmurs, the low purr of her voice resonating in my core.

“I figured as much, given everyone’s reaction when we walked in on New Year’s.” Still, it’s nice hearing it.

“I’ve never…” Her throat seems to close, and she tries again. “I don’t typically feel this way. About people.”

My heart skips. What isthis way? Is she saying what I think she’s saying?

Her breaths shorten, and she lowers her gaze to our entwined fingers. Her lips are parted, smooth and full, and I want nothing more than to feel them against mine.

With nothing to lose, I let the words tumble out. “I like you, Natalie.”

Her dark eyes lock onto me, pulling me in. A falling sensation sweeps through me. I’ve never been drawn to anyone like this before, never been so attracted with every cell in my body.

She moves decisively, lifting her hand to my cheek. I stay still as her thumb brushes my lip, sending a tantalizing, molten surge through me. Her palm is soft as it slides around to the back of my neck. Heat pools in my middle, desire building until I can’t take it anymore.

Her scent fills me. I lean closer, needing to taste her.

“This isn’t…” she trails off, her fingers tightening on my neck. Her lips part.

It’s finally going to happen!

But then I see it—a widening in her eyes. A sharp inhale. A flicker of doubt.

“Natalie,” I whisper, pleading.