Page 52 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

Still, that was easier said than done, given the perfect specimen on display before me. I watched Axel’s fingers as he formed the pizza’s crust. He wore a long sleeved flannel, the sleeves bunched up at the elbows, showing off his ropy forearms. My gaze spent far too long tracing the veins there, watching the way his muscles bunched as he worked.

I could still feel those same hands on me. The way he tugged my hair. The way he’d ground his hips into me. How he’d devoured my mouth, licking and kissing. The feel of his weight over me, pressing me into the ground. Pinning me beneath him.

He was so much bigger than me. Could easily overpower me. I’d be helpless against him, unless I used what little magic I had left. Even then…

But I felt safe with him, like a deep, innate knowing.

He might have hated witches. He’d made that clear from the start. But he would never hurt me.

The more I got to know him, the more endearing he became. His passion for cooking was obviously attractive. But there were other things, too. Thoughtful things. Like the way he cared for my bunnies, even though he’d made a fuss about them. Or how I’d found a stack of his T shirts neatly folded on the bed an hour ago, after he’d laundered the sheets for me. Or how he’d brought me several cups of tea while I graded assignments this afternoon, before slipping back out to his workshop.

The tea was new. He’d picked it up at the market, dropping it into the shopping cart without asking. All because he’d seen me drinking tea at The Roost.

It wasn’t fair. The way he did this. Hot and cold⁠—

“You got any topping preferences?”

“What?”

“On your pizza.” Axel stared at me, his gaze unnerving.

“Oh.” I blinked. “I mean…I like a good Hawaiian but I’ll eat just about anything.”

He hummed, spooning sauce from a small pot and spreading it over the dough. Because of course he didn’t just get it out of a jar. Then he took a ball of fresh mozzarella and cut it into round slices. There was no shredded stuff here—not for his masterpiece. For the toppings, he made an arrangement of pepperoni, bell peppers, olives, and mushrooms.

It was relaxing, watching the steady movements of his hands as he worked. Watching the way the pizza came together. Seeing the process of the food before we ate it.

By the time he slid it into the oven, my mouth was watering.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

My heart leapt. “Sure.”

He hesitated, then motioned me over with his head. He pressed a button and a panel in the wall opened. My lips parted. I was out of my seat in half a second, rushing to his side. “Is that a hidden wine cellar?”

“Something of the sort.” He looked at me, amusement dancing in his gaze.

It was a narrow space, temperature controlled. There was more than wine in here, I realized, after following him in.

“How about a Chianti?” He lifted a bottle, running his thumb over the label. “It’s from southern Italy. You’ll like it, I think.”

“Sure. Sounds great.” I’d become something of a wine lover during my PhD days, going from cheap ten dollar bottles to fancier stuff, but only on special occasions. Considering his collection, I didn’t want to know the price of what we were about to drink.

He led me back into the kitchen, closed up the entry panel, and set about uncorking. He poured two glasses and handed me one. I swirled mine around, lifting it to my nose for a sniff. It was a lighter red, and I smelled a hint of berries.

“To the best fucking pizza you’re about to taste,” Axel said, clinking his glass against mine.

A laugh burst from my chest. I hated that he could stomp on my feelings one day, and have me laughing the next. It was annoying, really. Even more annoying that he looked delicious, like a deranged mountain man, and could probably fuck like one too.

“We’ll see about that,” I managed. “Won’t know until I try it, yeah?”

I lifted my glass and took a sip. Then moaned.

“It’s delicious.”

His gaze heated, the uninjured one dilating until his pupil was so large it nearly swallowed all the color. He blinked and the look was gone. “You feed the little snacks their dinner yet?”

“Not yet.” I stood and went to go scoop the bunnies their pellets. They were wandering the great room again.