Page 23 of Once Upon a Curse for True Love (Paranormal Romance #2)

How To Get Away With Cuddling

ANDROMEDA

Andromeda woke to an unfamiliar warmth wrapped around her body—a heavy arm draped across her waist, a solid chest pressed to her back.

The foreign sensation of bare skin disoriented her until memories from the night before flooded back in vivid detail: Donatello’s hands exploring her curves, his mouth claiming hers, the way he’d looked at her right before they’d both fallen apart.

She was naked in Detective Malatesta’s bed, and not a single alarm bell went off.

A languid contentment settled in her bones instead, as comfortable and unexpected as the man still sleeping beside her.

Morning light filtered through the half-drawn blinds, casting golden stripes across the rumpled sheets.

Carefully, Andromeda shifted to face him, moving slowly to avoid waking him.

Asleep, Donatello looked younger, the perpetual crease between his brows smoothed away.

His lilac hair was tousled, sticking up at odd angles that made him absurdly adorable for someone who’d been so commanding last night.

She studied him, taking advantage of this unguarded moment.

His eyelashes—unfairly long for a man—cast feathery shadows on his cheekbones.

The stubble along his jaw had grown thicker overnight, darkening the sharp lines of his face.

One of his arms was still tucked beneath her, the lean muscle firm.

Her gaze traced the contours of his chest, the defined slope of his shoulders, down to where the sheet draped low across his hips.

Andromeda couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this…

satisfied. Usually, first-time sex with a new partner involved awkward fumbling, misinterpreted signals, and polite disappointment.

But with Donatello, it had been like their bodies had known each other all along.

He touched her like he already knew every place that made her shiver.

And then there had been that moment—that strange, breathless pause when he’d just…

stopped. Held himself above her, gazing down with an expression that had made her chest ache.

In that suspended second, with his eyes locked on hers, their connection had become something more than bodies seeking release.

As if they’d been making love, not having sex.

The realization disturbed her as much as it thrilled her.

Andromeda ran her fingers through his lilac hair, the silky strands slipping between them like water.

Donatello stirred under her touch, his eyelids fluttering before opening to reveal those dark eyes that saw right through her defenses. He blinked once, twice, focusing on her face. Then a slow, lazy smile spread across his lips. Her heart kicked in response.

“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. He shifted closer, burying his face into her neck and breathing deeply. “You smell good.”

She raised a brow. “I smell like sex and sweat.”

“Mmm. I’ve never been this into either before.”

His lips brushed her pulse point. She gripped his hair hard.

“Any chance my hair could go back to black?”

Andromeda widened her eyes in mock innocence. “I never admitted having anything to do with the color change, detective.”

“No?” His hand slid up her side, fingertips tracing patterns on her skin that made it difficult to keep cool. “You’re sticking with denial?”

“It’s worked for me so far.”

His eyes narrowed playfully. “I could make you confess.”

“I’d like to see you try—”

Before she could finish, he lunged forward. His mouth found the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder, and he delivered a series of quick, playful bites, nuzzling her as she squealed and laughed.

“Stop!” she gasped, squirming beneath him.

“Admit it was you,” he growled against her skin, his stubble ticklish. She’d have to use a spell to hide the beard burns.

“Fine! Fine!” Andromeda surrendered, breathless from laughing. “It was me! I cursed your hair!”

Donatello pulled back, victorious. “See? Was that so hard?”

“You fight dirty.”

“Only when necessary.” He touched his lilac locks with an exaggerated sigh. “Do I have to beg for you to fix it?”

The image of Donatello Malatesta—powerful, cocky, self-assured—begging her for anything sent a wave of heat through her body. “That’s… an interesting proposition.”

He caught the shift in her tone, his eyes darkening as he leaned closer. “I could get on my knees right now if that would help,” he whispered in her ear.

Andromeda swallowed hard, torn between taking him up on the offer and showing mercy. She sighed dramatically and kept stroking his lilac strands. “I suppose I can be persuaded without the begging. But I’ll miss this color. It’s grown on me.”

“You can turn it back tonight, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “If that’s what you want.”

The casual endearment combined with the assumption they’d be spending another night together sent a warm flutter through her chest. Rather than examining the feeling too closely, Andromeda focused on reversing the curse.

Under her fingertips, the texture of his hair remained the same—soft and thick—but the magic drained away as the color shifted. “This might feel weird,” she warned. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the counter-spell.

“It already—hex!” Donatello shivered in her arms. “Your coursework is freezing!”

When she opened her eyes, his hair had returned to its natural midnight black, the strands still caught between her fingers. He wasn’t any less handsome. Still the same intense, brooding, skilled-in-bed cop.

“Better?” she asked, admiring her handiwork.

“Much.” His hands were moving again, sliding down her back to pull her closer. “But now I’m cold. Think you could warm me up?”

She smiled as she let her weight drop on him, trailing her fingertips down his arms. His mouth claimed hers, hungry and demanding, as he rolled her beneath him.

This time was different—less frantic, more intentional.

His hands moved with careful precision as if cataloging her responses for future reference.

And he held her gaze with an intensity that made her breath catch.

There it was again—that something that ran deeper than a physical connection.

Andromeda should have found it terrifying, but instead, she arched up to meet him, surrendering to whatever this was becoming.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, Andromeda’s head pillowed on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her shoulder, and she melted into the touch.

“Shower?” he suggested.

What was meant to be a quick rinse turned into another round of intimacy when Donatello backed her against the cool tile wall, lifted her with those strong arms, and made her forget her name.

Water cascaded over them, steam curling around their bodies as they moved together.

She clutched his shoulders, her thighs locked at his waist, wondering how she’d ever go back to showering alone after this.

By the time she made it to the kitchen, wrapped in his too-large robe, her legs wobbly, and her skin bearing several marks from his eager mouth, the clock on the microwave read 9:17—later than she’d expected.

“Hex! Quill will be worried sick. I didn’t tell him I wasn’t coming home.”

Donatello grinned as he cracked eggs into a bowl. “Your hedgehog’s going to hate me even more now.”

“He already thinks you’re the devil incarnate.” Andromeda rummaged through her bag for her phone. “Yikes. Seven texts from Sarah Michelle.”

She scrolled through them, her cheeks heating as her roommate’s messages grew increasingly suggestive. The last one being:

You’d better be handcuffed to Malatesta’s bed. That’s the only reason I might forgive you for not replying

Andromeda groaned and typed back:

Stayed at D’s. Will be home soon to change. Tell Quill to chill

Almost instantly, three dots appeared, followed by:

D, huh? So… on a scale of 1-10, how accurate was that “my penis is small” meme? Asking for a friend

“Gargoyles,” Andromeda muttered, her face flaming up.

“What’s wrong?” Donatello glanced over his shoulder from where he was cooking scrambled eggs.

“Nothing. Just Sarah Michelle.”

“Do I want to know what Callidora is saying?”

Andromeda locked her phone screen. “Definitely not.”

He chuckled, sliding a plate of fluffy eggs and toast in front of her. “Yeah, better not ask.”

They ate breakfast together at his small kitchen table, their knees touching beneath it. The morning ritual took on a strangely domestic tone. Andromeda stole glances at him between bites, still adjusting to the return of his natural hair color.

“What?” he asked, catching her staring.

“Just getting used to the black again,” she admitted. “I kind of miss the lilac.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, but his smile took any sting out of the words.

After breakfast, Donatello lent her a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that smelled like him—clean laundry with undertones of that cedar-and-spice cologne. She rolled the waistband of the pants several times and still had to hold them up as she walked.

“I look ridiculous,” she complained, examining her reflection in the bathroom.

“I like you in my clothes,” he corrected, appearing behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. His chin rested on her shoulder as their eyes met in the mirror.

The words sent a thrill through her. Last night she’d thought of this as an unexpected, hot fling with an infuriatingly attractive detective. But now… whatever this was, it wasn’t supposed to make her warm and gooey inside.

The drive to her house was quiet, comfortable.

Donatello drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh.

Outside, Salem was already bustling with tourists taking photos of colonial architecture, locals putting the final touches on their Halloween decorations, and small business owners sweeping fallen leaves off their stoops.

“So,” he said as they pulled into her driveway, “we should head to the archives before noon. Before Graves takes a lunch break or something.”

“You think he’ll talk to us?”

Donatello shifted in his seat to face her. “He has to. Civilians can’t stonewall law enforcement.”

Her fingers curled against her leg. “Are you being authoritatively sexy? Because it’s working.”

His responding grin was wolfish. “That wasn’t the goal, but keep looking at me like that and I’ll stop pretending to be the responsible one.” Then the heat in his eyes cooled into focus. “Are you ready for this? If Graves’s our guy, he could be dangerous.”

The concern in his voice touched her. “I’ve faced worse than a stuffy archivist,” she assured him.

“Yeah, like what?”

“A smug cop with a dominance complex and unfairly skilled hands.”

He laughed, then leaned over to kiss her. It was a soft kiss, tender, but her stomach bottomed out—not from lust, but from the dangerous feelings taking root inside her.

When they broke apart, a strange shyness overtook Andromeda. “I’d invite you in, but the amount of grief you’d get from Quill isn’t worth it.”

“Agreed. While you deal with the neurotic pincushion, I’ll do a coffee run.” He traced her jawline with his thumb. “Text me when you’re ready.”

She nodded, then surprised herself by leaning in for one more kiss.

“See you soon.” She pulled away and gathered her things.

As she made her way to her front door, wearing his oversized clothes and carrying her outfit from yesterday under her arm, Andromeda knew she looked like what she was—a woman doing the walk of shame after an incredible night.

And somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to care, not even when she spotted Quill’s tiny silhouette watching disapprovingly from the window.

Whatever this thing with Donatello was becoming, it was worth a lecture from an uptight hedgehog. She’d take the sermon and ask for seconds.