Something reckless.
Like a blowjob.
The thought hit hard and immediate.
Fuck.
I could practically see it.
Those plush pink lips wrapped around my cock while those huge pale eyes looked up at me—I shut my eyes immediately.
Absolutely not.
I was not getting hard over imaginary blowjobs while she folded my clothes ten feet away.
That was a new low.
Besides, I never could have actually asked her for something like that.
Not really.
It would have frightened her.
Or worse—made her think I was like every other male who saw a soft-bodied Witch and assumed that made her easy.
Amrin wasn’t easy.
She was careful.
Tender in strange ways.
Like she expected the world to disappoint her and had learned to soften the blow before it could.
And gods help me, I hated that.
Hated imagining all the people who had looked at her and failed to see what I saw immediately.
Because she was stunning.
Not despite her softness.
Because of it.
Her body was lush in all the ways that mattered. Plush thighs. Full breasts. Rounded hips that looked like they were designed specifically to fit beneath my hands.
And me?
I had thought I was above this.
Above the desperate, mate-hungry males prowling Runevald’s halls every semester.
I’d watched them lose themselves for females before.
Watched powerful Monsters become pathetic wrecks over women who barely glanced their way.
I had pitied them.
Mocked them.
