Page 47 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

One of his hands slipped into my hair, messing my ponytail and pulling it loose. He made a fist with the strands and held my head captive, angling me to better devour my mouth. His other hand slipped down my side to cup my ass, pulling my hips up. He squeezed and my inner walls fluttered.

We were breathless. Acting on instinct. Feeding off the potent tension that had been growing between us for weeks.

I bit his bottom lip, pulling to get his attention. He lifted his head, eyes studying mine. “Little witch.”

There was a warning there.

I blinked and some of the world returned.

His eyes glowed yellow. Wolf eyes. Even the one that was fragmented.

Then he blinked and the color faded back to warm honey. He looked dazed. The way he stared down at me, like he was drunk.

“I… I shouldn’t…”

Panicking, I wrapped my legs and arms around him as he began to retreat. He froze. “This better not be the part where you tell me you made a mistake and regret kissing me.”

He blinked down at me, his brow furrowed. Something warred in his gaze. Indecision. I tightened my hold, knowing he was strong enough to stand up, even with me spider monkeying his body.

He deflated, and the delicious weight of him settled back into the cradle of my thighs.

“We can’t, Rebecca.”

“Can’t what? Kiss? Mess around? Fuck?”

“All of the above.”

My chest sank. “Well, we can clearly kiss. Case in point. We just did.”

He exhaled, closing his eyes, like he was pained. Then he rested his forehead against mine. “I can’t get tangled up in a relationship, Rebecca. Not casual. Not serious. Not physical.”

His words were like a punch to the gut.

He reached for one of my arms and untangled it from around his neck. Then the other. I was too busy blinking to fight him as he stood up. But instead of stalking off like a caveman from a romance book, he simply held out his hand and waited for me to take it, then helped me to my feet.

“I want to know why.” I pinned him with my gaze.

He began packing things up, so I waited. When he stood with the tote in hand, he said, “I am not good for you.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?”

His expression shut down. “There’s a reason I live in isolation. Like I said, I’m not interested in relationships. Physical or otherwise.”

“Your dick says otherwise.” It was still hard. Tenting his pants.

His jaw clenched and he readjusted himself. “It’s biology. That’s all this was for me. So let it go. It can’t happen again.”

And just like that…I wilted inside.

13

He was such an asshole. That much was clear. He could have shut things down more elegantly. But it was better this way. Better if his little witch wanted nothing to do with him.

Made it easier to keep his distance. Because his self control was hanging by a thread. He’d snapped when she’d tackled him.

The feel of her body on his?

Instant need.