Page 42 of Hungry As Her Python

“Tighter, Sugar. Wouldn’t want you falling,” he told me again, that growl-hiss rolling over me like a caress.

The second time he gunned it, I actually did grip him—clawing him through his shirt—pink and white sparks flared across my fingertips.

The tingles weren’t just magic anymore. They were him. A heat that radiated from his body straight into mine.

And the worst part?

My attraction wasn’t purely physical. I’d heard people talking about him—how polite he was, how he went out of his way to help, how kids and grannies alike adored him.

Which, of course, made it harder to convince myself he was bad news.

“Relationships are for the birds, Bella.”

Granny’s voice rang in my head, the same voice that had carried me through more heartbreaks than I could count.

She’d also once said smart Witches didn’t need men for anything but ingredients, which had been a deeply disturbing thing to hear as a child.

Especially a child who loved to cook.

But right now? Riding behind Conrad Boman, the wind whipping through my hair despite the helmet he’d buckled under my chin, I wasn’t so sure Granny was right about this one.

The man was like gravity, pulling me to him with something magnetic I couldn’t deny for much longer.

I mean, I was only human. Well—Witch human.

Sooner than I wanted him to, Conrad rolled that awesome motorcycle of his to a stop.

“Here you go. Safe and sound.”

The words rumbled out of his chest and straight into mine. His body vibrated against mine, and for a second, I forgot we weren’t still moving.

I was clinging to him like static, and he didn’t seem in any hurry to pry me off.

Embarrassing.

We’d stopped at the edge of the trees guarding the clearing where my cousins were already waiting. I could hear Donny and Evie’s voices from here—low and wicked in that way only best friends can be.

Judging from the way Conrad’s mouth twitched, I had no doubt they were discussing exactly what they thought of me arriving on the back of his bike.

Saucy wenches. I grinned anyway.

The three of us were a package deal and we had the same ideals and agreed on things most of the time.

“Thank you,” I said, finally forcing myself to let go.

Goddess, he was nice to touch.

All hard curves and heat and those long, dangerous fingers that could probably undo my self-control as easily as they could unlace my corset—if I owned one.

“Bella, I think we should talk?—”

“No. No talking, Conrad. I just can’t right now.”

I tugged on my chef’s pants to straighten them and—of course—got caught on something.

Ugh.

Because humiliation was my brand.