Page 81 of Hungry As Her Python

“You’ve had enough people in your life walk away when things got complicated,” I murmured. “I’m not one of them. So unless you shove me out that door, Bella, I’m staying. I’m protecting you. And I’m going to keep proving to you that you’re it for me. My mate. My Witch.”

Her eyes shimmered—dammit, was that a tear?—but then she did the most Bella thing ever.

She sniffed, squared her shoulders, and muttered, “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

That broke me.

I laughed, low and relieved, and before she could come up with another smart-ass comment, I was kissing her.

Slow at first.

Testing.

My lips on hers, the faint taste of sugar and that last bite of Bananas Foster donut we’d shared earlier still lingering.

She sighed into me, her hands fisting in the front of my shirt, and just like that, the dam broke.

I pulled her against me, deepening the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers in a slow, claiming stroke.

Something popped somewhere behind us, but nothing in this world could’ve made me move.

Her magic prickled over my skin, little jolts of heat and light, as if her body was saying yes, yes, yes even if her stubborn brain wasn’t ready to admit it.

I backed her toward the counter, lifting her effortlessly to sit on the edge.

She wrapped her legs around my waist without hesitation, and I felt her melt against me.

“Conrad,” she whispered, her voice a mix of warning and want.

“I’ve got you, Bella.” I dragged my lips down her jaw, tasting the soft skin at her throat, breathing her in.

“Not going anywhere.”

Her head tipped back, giving me access, and my self-control frayed another inch.

My hands slid under her shirt, palms memorizing every inch of warm, soft skin.

She gasped when my thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts, arching into me.

“Just let me lock the door,” she whispered.

Her magic surged, a quick shimmer of power sealing us in.

The entire house hissed, and the walls hummed with energy.

In here, it was just us.

I came back to her mouth, kissing her hard this time, pouring every ounce of want and promise into it.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp, and a low growl rumbled out of me.

Clothes went fast after that—her shirt over her head, my belt unbuckled, her leggings tugged down with a breathless laugh.

I slid my hands over her hips, pulling her to the very edge of the counter.

She was flushed, eyes bright with magic and need, and I knew I’d never get enough of her.

“Tell me to stop,” I murmured against her lips, even though I prayed she wouldn’t.