Page 31 of Hungry As Her Python

“Not for me. Never for me. I still want you, Maribella Strega. All the time. And I promise you, little Witch, I’m not giving up.”

“No?” I tilted my chin, pretending I wasn’t already half-melting from the heat in his voice. “You say that, Conrad, but you will. You’ll get bored. Find something else shiny to chase.”

His eyes locked on mine, molten and unblinking.

“Nuh uh. No way. No how. I’m not going anywhere. And when you’re ready to finally admit you want me, too? I’ll be right here. Waiting for you.”

It should’ve sounded cocky.

Instead, it slid under my skin like warm honey, coating every raw, vulnerable part of me I kept carefully walled off.

With a handful of words, the man had my heart pounding like I’d sprinted up three flights of stairs and my magic sparking like I’d just mainlined espresso and sugar.

I shut my eyes, desperate to hide the truth—that every nerve ending I owned was leaning toward him, hungry for more.

But wanting Conrad Boman was dangerous.

The kind of dangerous that left you raw and bleeding when it ended.

He was lethal, not because of his strength or the fact that he could probably coil around me and squeeze the breath right out of my lungs, but because he could get into places no one had ever been.

The private places.

The ones I didn’t let anyone touch.

Dude—get your mind out of the gutter! I was talking about emotional places, for Pete’s sake.

I mean, he’d already touched everywhere else, if I was being honest.

Still, falling for him would be emotional suicide, and I’d survived that once before. I wasn’t dumb enough to sign up for a repeat performance.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

Only my foolish, traitorous heart clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.

It thudded against my ribs, reckless and eager, whispering lies about happily ever afters and forever matebonds.

It wanted to believe him.

It wanted my brain to shut up and just let it happen.

But I couldn’t afford to fall for that line.

Not again.

Not with him.

If I did and it all went bad? Something told me I’d never recover.

Maybe I was too big a coward for my own good.

But whoever said it was better to have loved and lost was a masochist, that much I was sure of.

At least, I used to be.

Chapter Nine-Conrad

She tried to brush me off with a quiet, defiant little whisper.