Page 18 of My Hexed Honeymoon (The Bridgewater Pack #2)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I’m a bumbling teenager on prom night, not sure when to whip it out.

Not it, it .

It doesn’t help that my heightened senses mean I hear every rustle of Talia’s sleeping bag and the steadily increasing chatter of her teeth.

I thought dinnertime had been cold—and that was with a crackling fire and warm stew in our bellies.

Talia ate her food with the type of grim countenance reserved for funeral processions, and without Riven to fill in the blank spaces and pretend we were three friends on a weekend getaway, there was a devastating finality to her silence.

Talia was done with me.

Which is why I’m hesitating to whip out the fact that I can easily get her to stop shivering if she’ll allow me to lend her some of my body heat—just for survival reasons, like warding off hypothermia.

Although my mind’s been plenty occupied with the kind of naked, sordid heat we could generate together…

Greatly complicated by her hatred of me, I wish that were enough to keep me from wanting Talia’s body unceasingly. These past few days have been torture.

We’d only spoken a handful of words since the ax-throwing contest, and she’d used most of hers to undermine my authority in front of my men, insisting on being in on a meeting about pack business and playing the mate card.

So, while she was all huffed breaths, rolled eyes, and giving nonverbal answers with a nod or shake of her head, she wasn’t the only one who was pissed off and regretting all their life choices.

Primarily the one where we got fucking married.

I never asked for her to be my mate. The obstinate, infuriating woman had insinuated her way into my life—into being my bride—and I resented the hell out of her for it.

She drove me crazy, to the point I could hardly focus on anything else as we tromped and climbed our way through untamed forest.

I hated the way she stormed ahead of me on our hikes like she had something to prove, too. Not only was she too slow and weak to be the leader, half the time she also started off in the wrong direction.

Did that prevent her from doing it again the next time we took off? Nope.

And when she fell behind and was obviously struggling, would she let me help by carrying her for a while? Also, no, while glaring at me like she’d shoot me full of silver bullets if she could.

Then there was the way she constantly stopped to readjust her bun. As if she couldn’t do it while walking, because it took too much focus.

We’d all have to come to a complete and utter stop so Talia could stretch up her arms and arch her back, the fabric pulling taut across her breasts as she gathered all that golden hair into a nest of messy curls.

And I’d be stuck sporting wood, adjusting my crotch and pretending I wasn’t staring at the curve of her ass or the line of her neck. Definitely not noticing the way her shirt would ride up, revealing a tantalizing stripe of pale skin.

Inevitably, Riven would catch me looking and raise their damn, almost-invisible eyebrows like we were buddies in the locker room, nudging elbows over ogling my sexpot wife.

Jealousy churned through me like a washer that’d never finish cleaning.

She’s mine .

I thought it every single time I caught Riven admiring Natalia, but it’s not just the vampire spurring on my possessive streak.

I’m not even sure it’s even the bond anymore, but I like the idea of that a lot better.

“This is ridiculous. I can’t have you freezing to death on my watch,” I mutter, finally breaking the silence. Well, save the swish of noisy fabric every time she shifts or shivers, which is every single second, and I need to get her warm now.

Like on a primordial level, I can’t listen to her endanger herself any longer.

“And who s-says arranged m-marriages aren’t romantic?”

I shoot her a look across the tiny distance, but it’s dark enough I doubt she can see it clearly. “You can climb inside with me, where it’s already warm, or I can come to you. Make a decision.”

My pulse picks up speed at the rustle of nylon, and then Talia’s dark outline scoots closer, until she’s right next to me.

The unzipping sounds loud in the silence; my heartbeat is a war drum.

Talia slides into my sleeping bag beside me, her silky hair brushing my chest and arms. “You don’t have a shirt on? What’s wrong with y?—”

I wrap both of my arms around her and haul her against my chest, dogged in my attempt to stop the chattering of her teeth.

She melts against me. “By the goddess, you’re so warm.”

“I’m basically a space heater you’ve been ignoring for days.”

She stiffens, and I regret my words, even if I meant them to be more of a light gibing. “That’s because I’m mad at you,” she says.

“Right back at you,” I grouse.

She rolls to face me, the friction of her ass against my crotch causing my fingers to twitch with desire. Then her breasts are smooshed up against me, her kissable lips so fucking close. “Why are you mad? I’m the one who gets to be mad.”

I loosely wrap my hands around her upper arms and begin rubbing heat into them. “You defied me in front of my men.”

“You left me standing in the middle of a clearing all alone while everyone glared at me! For using magic.” Her voice breaks, but the finger she jabs into my chest is unrelenting. “Something you’re now upset at me for not being better at.”

I open my mouth to reply, but I don’t have a good response. Nothing besides a few grunted syllables that mean she has a point, even though I don’t want her to. “I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you standing alone like that.”

“It’s not just that. You pulled me in with your toasted marshmallows and including me, and I would’ve rather you just kept on being an asshole. Because for a glorious hour or so”—she sniffs, and it slays me—“that’s what it felt like. Belonging.”

A radiating ache flows outward, from my knotted heart to the tips of my fingers.

For so many years, Conall and I wandered, going from not quite teens to massive teenagers without a home.

We never felt particularly welcome until we carved out our own space in the Bridgewater Forest, but at least we always had each other.

I’ve only seen a sliver of the abuse Natalia suffered at the hands of her mother. I just don’t know how to reconcile the fact that she’s a witch, and witches murdered my entire family in front of me.

I hate her.

I admire her.

And without question, I want to fuck her.

It’s all consuming with her body flush against mine, but I do my best to tamp it down while I handle her bruised feelings.

“You’re right, that sucks. You’ve already been ripped from your home, and the first chance you had at kicking back and having fun with the wolves, we judged you.

You still can’t question my orders in front of my men. ”

“Sounds like we’d better start having all our conversations away from them, then.”

I grit my teeth together, the muscles in my jaw so tight I’m not sure they’ll unlock again. “I said you have a point. No need to push it.”

“Why? Because that’s your job?” She shoves her hands into my chest, not with enough force to move me, though, because she still requires the warmth of my body.

Her skin is slowly regaining color and heat, so I mark it as a win, even if I’m now being warmed by my seething.

“I like you more than I want to,” I concede. “If that makes you feel any better.”

Her laugh is slightly choked. “That seems more like an insult, but your warmth is making me feel better.”

I curl her in closer and tuck my chin atop her head. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“Yeah, I feel that.” She adjusts again, the confines of the sleeping bag leaving her leg searching for a place to land.

I find it a home over my thigh, all the friction and her soft curves, and my dirty mind means she’s pressed up against my now-raging erection.

Since proper responses have left the building, I merely grunt.

Her sweet honeysuckle, meadowsweet scent invades my senses, my attempt not to lose my head and get entirely caught up in Natalia failing immediately.

It doesn’t help matters that I’ve grown obsessed with the idea of taking her, imagining what it’d be like over and over again.

Watching her ass in those jeans through every mile and clearing and the hours without conversation—they’ve all been filled with the fantasy of Natalia, naked and writhing beneath me.

Now she’s halfway there, each tiny shift and puff of breath turning me on that much more. “You keep rubbing up against it.”

“We’re sharing the same sleeping bag. It’s kinda hard not to.”

“I resent that kinda hard comment. We both know it’s all the way there.” I test the waters, equal parts curiosity and raging need, and arch against her.

My groan punctuates the quiet, followed by a moan from her that sends me soaring toward the moon—she’s equally affected by me and the magnetic pull between us. She’s just better at hiding it.

She cuddles closer, the resistance of her hip bone increasing the pressure against my steely length, and I’m beginning to think she’s teasing and taunting me on purpose.

My control’s about to snap either way.

That’s the other reason I’ve done my best to convince myself I hate her.

She makes me feel unraveled. Unhinged. Too aware of every move she makes, the change in her breath when she’s hiking and getting too fatigued, or almost asleep. How she’ll bound off without checking if it’s the right direction, and that fucking messy bun she redoes again and again.

“And the thing Riven said about the bond…” Talia rubs her thighs together. “I hate that they might have a point.”

Once again, I grunt.

Not my best, but my hips rock of their own accord, the rush of pleasure through my core leaving my eyes rolling back into my head.

“Is this what it feels like to be a guy?” she asks with a dizzying buck of her hips, mouth falling open in a perfect O shape. “All I can think about is sex and doing it, and I’m dizzy with the idea of it all fucking day.”

“Yes,” I say simply. “But I’ve never experienced it on this level. I’ve seen my brothers lose their minds over their mates, I just never thought I’d be one of them.”

I take the opening, my mouth finding the curve of her shoulder. It’s the same spot I lavished attention on while she projected into the Hollow, and it’s as delicious as I remember, her pulse setting itself to the swipes of my tongue.

My hand finds the hem of her shirt and slides beneath. Her skin has lost some of its coolness, but she’s still not warm enough.

Not that my motive is purely altruistic—still, science is science. “Let’s get this shirt off you. We’ve gotta maximize surface area.”

“I’ll maximize your surface area,” she says, the comeback making me chuckle.

“Sweetheart, you can maximize my surface area anytime.” I peel her shirt up and off her before covering her body with mine again.

At her happy sigh, my heart expands in my chest, and didn’t I tell myself this was just sexual? Slaking the lust to feed the bond, that was all.

Talia wraps her arms around me extra tightly, her eyes finding mine and glinting in the dark. Desire swims in the green depths, the light from the moon sending a silvery stripe across the bridge of her nose.

Ever so slowly, she rolls her hips, dragging my cock over the apex of her thighs.

Her moan fills the air, better than any of my fantasies, and I’ve had my fair share in the two weeks since the wedding.

The keening sound that fills the tent and having her shirtless and writhing beneath me, though, is one hundred percent real.

As real as the woman shoving her pants down her thighs.

I snag hold of the waistband for her and tug—a real helper like that—and in the second it takes, I resent the space it forged between us.

Then I’m grateful and onboard again, as those silky-smooth legs tangle with mine. She wraps herself around my torso like a koala bear. “This is purely scientific, obviously.”

“By all means…” Reaching between us, I flatten my palm and point my fingertips toward the waistband of her panties—simple and pink, with lace around the waistband and a tiny bow that makes me feel like unwrapping my present. “In fact, I have a few theories I’d like to test for myself.”

My head swims when I reach the lace of the elastic, and my fingers brush that damn bow. “Mostly involving the pleasure principle.”

“Ah yes, a subject I’ve been more curious about as of late.” She arches her back, putting more of her on more of me, and the pressure has black spots dancing across my vision. “Need a study buddy?”

Gliding my hand into her panties, I palm her, a low noise of satisfaction rumbling through me at her damp heat. “More like a test subject, and lucky me, you’re already soaked.”

“That’s your fault. All that brooding and stomping through the woods and setting up camp. You providing warmth and shelter makes me want to be the Jane to your Tarzan, even though I’m a strong independent woman.”

“Don’t worry, I promise not to be gentle.” I crash my mouth over hers as I delve my fingers into her slick, ready entrance, devouring her gasp and teaching her tongue a new rhythm—mine.

And she is mine. Even if she hates it.

Even if I do, too.

Matching each swipe of my tongue with the strokes of my fingers, I spread her wetness over her, the world going hazy as her every twitch and whimper encourages me on.

Even when I close my eyes lately, she’s all I see. The bounce of her curls and the curve of her neck. I hear the skidding of her pulse and inhale her scent, and I can’t get enough of her taste.

At the glimmer of hesitation on her end, I gather all my self-restraint and pause in place, my entire body protesting the idea of stopping when the bond demands being fed.

“I still want to throat-punch you,” she says, and I chuckle.

“You’re free to try.” I brush my mouth over hers in a punishing kiss. “But I don’t show my throat to anyone.”

She whips up a hand, but I’m faster. I manacle her wrist in my fingers and pin her arm over her head. Then I make a long appraisal of her body, not bothering to hold back my blatant appreciation.

I grow harder as she writhes beneath me.

“So what?” she asks in a raspy voice that I feel down to my balls. “Tonight we share body heat and screw each other’s brains out, and in the morning we go back to being enemies?”

“Probably,” I say, my voice gruff with desire. I wedge myself tighter between her thighs, resuming my ministrations with my fingers as I part her lips with my tongue. “But tonight, we just get to let it happen.”