Page 44 of Hungry As Her Python

And Shifters, well, they were another species altogether when it came to physical perfection. Literally.

So why would I even try?

Sex was fun when it was good, and yes, he was good. But I wasn’t looking to collect another broken heart just to add to the pile.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell him exactly that—ready to end this before it got dangerous—and without so much as a by your leave, the man cupped the back of my neck.

It was the hottest of all hot boy touches. The one book boyfriends the world over made if the author listened to the throngs of readers the world over when they wanted possessive sexy hot heroes to drool over.

But this wasn’t a story.

This was one hundred percent real.

And I was so damn screwed.

Warm, strong fingers anchored me in place as he leaned in, closing the distance with that slow, inevitable gravity that made every nerve in my body light up.

Then his mouth was on mine.

It wasn’t polite.

It wasn’t brief.

It was a kiss that felt like he’d been planning it for a long time and didn’t intend to waste a single second of it.

Rough, consuming, and so deep my magic sparked behind my eyelids, sending glittery pulses through my veins.

My toes curled so hard they might never uncurl.

My knees? Completely untrustworthy.

By the time he pulled back, I was breathless, disoriented, and possibly in another dimension.

“Sometimes all it takes is a leap of faith, Maribella,” he murmured, and then—just like that—he was gone.

No lingering glance.

No cocky grin.

Just the roar of his motorcycle as he rode away, leaving me standing there like some lovesick extra in the music video of my own life.

Granny always said relationships were for the birds.

But as the growl of his engine faded—or maybe that was just the thundering of my heart—I had to wonder.

Maybe relationships were for the Snakes.

And maybe, just maybe if I was very, very lucky, they were for Witches, too.

Chapter Thirteen-Bella

“So, is it like dirty-water hot dog dong—long and slim—or like broccoli rabe sausage dong—thick and fat? Come on, what are we talking about here?” Donny asked Evie in a voice that carried across the clearing like she was auditioning for Witch Gossip Hour.

I came crashing into the moonlit space, lungs burning, hair sticking to my cheeks, huffing, and puffing like a third-rate forest nymph who’d failed cardio class.

“Definitely more like the sausage,” Evie replied without missing a beat, “but still long. Thick though, too. Like maybe three of them tied together! OMG, Donny, for fuck’s sake. The man’s a Shifter—oooh! You finally made it!” Evie screeched, spinning toward me like I was the guest of honor at a scandal.

“Look who showed up! Snake got your tongue, Miss Maribella?” Donny sing-songed, her grin wicked enough to make a demon blush.