Page 37 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

twenty-four

“Name the terms.”

Henry’s mouth was dry but he forced the words out. His cock was already hard, pushing against his zipper as Tia shrugged one shoulder. That red dress was sinful—and she knew it, judging by how she adjusted her body so the hem inched up farther.

“One question, one kiss.” She slid her hands down her sides, trailing her nails. “And I get one veto.”

“Then so do I,” he countered, which was pure shit and they both knew it. Like he’d refuse to kiss her anywhere.

Laughter lit her eyes. “Sounds fair.”

“And I don’t want just yes and no. Full answers for a full kiss.”

She hesitated. He waited her out, watching for any hint of what she was thinking. Finally, she gave a clipped nod.

He knew what this was; he remembered it. This was signature Tia Hightower—stubborn as fuck but reaching out through physical touch. This was her way of compromising.

It meant there was a chance. She didn’t hate him. She cared .

Warmth and something like hope burst in his veins and he flashed her a smile lazier than he was feeling. “Deal, Celestia.”

When she’d first entered the room, the air had been tense. Now it was electric, every tiny movement razing his skin. His heart pounded as he edged back so he could rest against the headboard. He considered her.

She didn’t break. Just stared back with that haughty, naughty look of hers that drove him wild. That always had.

He knew he was a dick for picking a fight about her holding back when he was doing the same thing.

She should know that he remembered their first meeting, their first kiss, their first everything.

But he couldn’t tell her. He’d stared at her sleeping next to him in bed the night before, tasting panic at the idea.

She’d pull away so fast, there’d be skid marks.

He just needed a little more time.

“Let’s start with an easy one,” he mused, tapping his knee. “Do you like working for the family business?”

Surprise flickered. Maybe a bit of relief. “Yeah.” At his pointed cough, she rolled her eyes and expanded. “I don’t like being away from the bar as much as I have been, but I like dealing with potions. Cocktails aren’t really the same.”

“If you were named the heir, you’d have even less time for the bar.”

Her lips curved. “That wasn’t a question.”

He chuckled, dark amusement washing their argument into the past. “All right, are you sure you’d like managing the company if it took you away from the bar completely?”

She shifted her weight, face tipping up to the ceiling in contemplation.

“You and I, we both grew up knowing we’d take over,” she said slowly.

“I had to fit into the mold of a Hightower. You had to fill the role of Richard Pearlmatter’s heir.

The bar…” The tip of her tongue touched her lip.

“It’s somewhere to go when it all gets to be too much. ”

“An escape.” He purposely didn’t make it a question. “Our parents have high expectations.” Understatement.

The noise she made was dry, as if she’d heard his silent addition. “And we’ll keep trying to meet them, no matter what.”

No matter what…

His lips pursed. It felt like that sentence was half-finished. Like she’d meant to say more. No matter what…she had to do? What he’d had to do?

“Screw ’em,” he offered, wanting to rub away the ache in his chest. “And their expectations.”

Words hovered in her eyes, unsaid, as she aimed an unreadable glance at him.

“You think so, huh?” She didn’t let him answer, moving quickly on.

“Anyway, I like working at the bar. I’m just me there and that’s enough.

But weight of my name aside, I love potions.

I love creating them, fine-tuning them. The feeling you get when it’s right.

” A glow lit her skin and he stared, dry-mouthed again.

“I’m proud of our name, the legacy we built.

I want my chance to show I can be worthy of it all.

So, yeah, I want to do both, even if it’s hard. Nothing worth having is easy.”

“Truer words,” he murmured, somewhat troubled, though he couldn’t say why. He crooked a finger. “I think I owe you two kisses.”

“You’ll have to come here to collect.”

“Your way again?”

She tilted her head. “Compromise.”

He didn’t want to argue, not when his skin hummed with the urge to be close to her.

He raised his hands in surrender and shifted off the bed, sauntering to where she stood. His hands came down on either side of her hips and his nose skimmed her neck. He felt her shiver and smiled.

“My mouth,” she ordered before he could ask, and he lifted his head on command, taking her in a kiss that was all greedy heat. She rolled her hips, shuddering as he sucked her tongue, took it even deeper.

When he lifted his head, they were both breathing hard.

“I think that was two kisses’ worth,” he told her. “Next question. Were you happy to be working with me again?”

“No.” She fisted a hand in his sweater, tugging him toward her. He resisted until she cursed. “I didn’t want to be around you,” she pushed out through her teeth. “I didn’t want to have to look at you or talk to you. I didn’t want to share the same air.”

“Liar,” he breathed and showed her how true that was.

Somewhere during the kiss, he boosted her onto the dresser.

Bottles wobbled and fell, some rolling onto the carpet with dull thuds as she stole his soul through his mouth.

He trembled as her hands dipped, shaping him through his jeans. He caught her wrists.

She glowered.

He took his time torturing both of them, thinking of his next question. “Have you ever pictured me back in your bed?” She’d told him that he’d wanted her all along. Would she admit the same?

Her mouth fell open. She spluttered. “What…? You…arrogant…dick!”

“Not an answer,” he taunted, letting go to smooth his hands over her hips, inching her dress higher.

Hazel boiled and his fire magic mirrored it, crackling under his skin.

Her jaw worked, resistance pushing against honor. She’d made the game, she’d play by its rules and her own personality dictated that she tell the truth.

Lazily, he rubbed his thumbs against fabric. “You want to use your veto?”

“No,” she bit out. “And you owe me a kiss.”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed with a grin. “Fuck. But before you collect, I get my answer.”

Tension crackled in her body as she finally spat, “Yes.”

He waited. Not just yes or no answers, he’d specified. And he was enjoying the hell out of that clause.

She dragged her nails down his chest, on the line of pain. “You know we’re good in bed. Anyone would think back during periods of drought for some…inspiration.” She smirked.

His groan caught the air. “I want to see that,” he rasped, stroking up her rib cage. “You picturing me to get yourself off.”

She caught his sweater and lifted it to scrape her nails against his belly. He shuddered. “Like you didn’t do the same.”

“I never said I didn’t.” He dove for the kiss, taking her hotter, faster, breathing her in as his hands rose and cupped her breasts. His thumbs flicked her hard nipples and she moaned into his mouth.

When he lifted from her lips, it took all his will not to just hike up her dress, tear off his jeans and drive himself inside her. Long game, he reminded himself, tweaking her nipples through the material, unable to tear his eyes from the hard points as she wriggled under his touch.

“Were there a lot of them? Droughts?” he asked, the words out before he knew they were there. Unreasonable jealousy reared up, squeezing at the image of a nameless man handling her, bringing her to climax, sharing her vulnerability in the aftermath.

“You’re not the only man I’ve been with, Henry,” she said softly. Warning flared in her face. “And I’m not the only woman you’ve been with.”

He could’ve pushed, but she was right, and that didn’t matter now. He let it go.

His next kiss was an apology, gentle and teasing.

He made sure to think through his next question. “Did you ever miss me?”

“Sure, but I have bad aim.”

He pinched her nipples and she gasped, arching.

Her fingers, clutching the top of his jeans, tugged him closer. She didn’t look at him, instead bowing her head, focused on her hands. “Sometimes. Not how you acted with me after we broke up. But the boy I grew up with? The…the man you are now. Yeah. Sometimes I missed him.”

He stared at her as she pressed her mouth to his neck. Hiding her face. An ache, long felt, throbbed at the admission and he swallowed hard.

A memory swirled at the edges of his vision: glass walls, desks, rows of people watching them covertly. Staring at her as he pretended to read a report and missing her so much, he couldn’t breathe. Recent. But the feeling of longing had always been there.

His voice sounded like crushed rocks as he said, “Let me kiss you.”

When she did, when he went for her lips, she lifted a hand to press against his. She shook her head. “Not there.”

Fire roared in his veins as she cupped his hand at her breast.

He bent his knees and did as his woman ordered, closing his mouth around her nipple.

It was hard against his tongue as he lapped, as he grazed his teeth warningly around it.

As she panted, he switched to the other, his hand plumping the abandoned one in tandem.

Her legs moved restlessly and if he wasn’t mistaken, the bottles on the floor were rolling again, thanks to her escaping magic.

His cock was in agony when he forced himself to stop. She swore, wrapping her leg around his hip and yanking him into her. He trembled, dropping his head to her neck as he caught his breath. Then he ran his hand down her bare leg, closing it around her ankle. And removed it.

“Only so much temptation,” he rasped. He returned to his stance, an arm on either side of her. Her face was flushed, pupils blown. She was so fucking beautiful.

“What did you miss about me? The me I was before we broke up,” he managed.