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I catch him straightening in my periphery, tilting his head to the side as if I’ve said something strange. “You think I’m beautiful?”
I harrumph, my arms crossed. “That’s all you got out of what I just said? Yes, in addition to being a nonpracticing witch, I can also spot the obvious, like a high, tight butt and even tighter abs.” I cover my mouth, knowing that was definitely the wrong thing to say. “Sorry. Sometimes I talk without thinking.”
Leo laughs, the sound pure honey on my soul. “You are nothing like any witch I’ve ever met, Ivy Moon.”
I cover my face with my hands, wallowing in my chagrin. “Please just go put some pants on. And a shirt. Something to cover your handsomeness.” I motion to his face and his whole person. “You know I’m going to say more embarrassing things!”
His laughter continues as he makes his way up the steps, giving me a moment to compose myself and try to start fresh. But when he comes down two minutes later, he’s got a t-shirt and shorts slung over his head, along with wearing navy pajama pants and a fitted green t-shirt. “Is this better? I covered my ass, stomach, and face. Oh, I should get mittens. Are my fingers turning you on?”
I grab the t-shirt off his head and give him my best look of disapproval. “Enough, you.”
But we’re past starting over. His hand reaches out and pinches my side, as if we are the type to be familiar with each other’s bodies.
Which isn’t entirely untrue.
Still, at this rate, my blush will never go away. An attractive man several years my senior paying this much attention to me? Never happens. “Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps witches find shifters attractive, but when we say so, you act like a smug ass, so we keep our mouths shut?”
Leo flops onto the middle of his couch and pats the spot beside him. When I sit, he points to me. “Not even close. See? A witch would never sit on a couch with a shifter. We’re beneath you. We’re dirty and violent.”
I cast him a withering look. “Witches can also be dirty and violent.”
“I know that. But being a shifter makes us less than people in your eyes.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose when the outside of his thigh brushes mine. It’s hard to concentrate when he’s this close. He smells like the forest. Like pine and sunshine somehow, and it’s messing with my mind. “Please stop lumping me in with mean people. I’m clearly not like that. And this isn’t even what we’re supposed to be discussing.”
“Right. Back on topic. You were praising my tight ass. Proceed.” His smile is endearing, if not a bit caddish. His teeth are perfect and gleam sharply against his russet skin. I give him a light shove, which only brightens his grin. It’s when his arm falls around me that I give myself permission to relax into his side.
This is certainly a first for me.
And I really, really like it.
We breathe together in unison a few beats before I take a chance with bravery and rest my hand on his thigh.
It’s a very dating thing to do. I blame it on the late hour, the magic, and his tight ass.
He stares at the contact, his smile fading as his face composes itself with a shadow of preciousness crossing his features. “This is a strange night,” he says quietly, kicking his bare foot up on the wooden coffee table. His furniture looks freshly hewn from a tree.
I nod, snuggling into his side like a glutton who’s been deprived of contact for far too long. “Agreed. I’m just glad my arm stopped burning.”
Leo’s fingers trill up and down my arm. “Is this where it hurt?”
I can scarcely breathe when he touches me so sweetly. It’s a mercy I can’t string two words together, because I know I would admit something embarrassing that I don’t want to say aloud.
I would tell him that he’s gorgeous. I would admit that I haven’t had sex or even kissed a man in two whole years.
I would beg him to take me up to his room and let me strip him down so I could stare at that tattoo on his thigh some more.
So I could lick the ripples of his abdomen.
So I could bite down on his taut ass and watch the muscles jump and strain.
Heat travels through my body faster than I can calm it, settling straight between my legs and begging me to relieve that tension. I want this man more than I’ve wanted any man before. I want him to throw me around in the bedroom, all sweaty and messy.
I need to get out more. A man pays me the slightest bit of attention, and I’m practically drunk on the high, my head swimming with heady desire.
“Do you want some ice for the sting?” Leo asks me.
I don’t know how to answer him. I can’t find a single word that might quantify how freakishly natural this whole experience has been. Part of me feels settled, tucked into Leo’s side as I am. More at peace than I ever have been before. But there’s no reason for it. I don’t know him, and he knows nothing about me, other than who my mother was.
