Page 122 of Ruined Vows

“How long does it take, then?”

“Anywhere from twenty minutes to two hours.”

His shoulders slump. “You fucking serious? Can we eat some breakfast then? I’m starved.”

“No breakfast. It’s best if you take the tea on an empty stomach.”

“Witch. Leaving a fella hungry with nothing but that disgusting shit in his stomach.”

I wave a hand. “You won’t mind in a little while.”

“Because I’ll be talking to the bunnies and the fairies?”

“Don’t be so small-minded. We’re using this as a healing session.”

“But it’s psychedelics. I’ll still see shit, right?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Not everyone does. But visuals do often accompany this strain.”

“Look at you, Professor.”

“You’re such a goofball.” It’s clear he’s not going to take this seriously or sit around to do some meditation like I did with my group the last time. But I can think of some other things to take his mind off the waiting and help keep him in a good mood.

“Oh, while you’re still in your right mind, do you consent to sex while on the mushrooms?”

His eyes finally brighten and his arms hook around my waist. “Now that’s some therapy I can get behind.”

I chortle and jump on him, trying to tackle him back onto the bed. I might as well be moving a mountain.

But it’s fun to try. Like our primal night, I just keep launching myself at him, using all my weight and strength to move him. I’ve gained a little weight since then. Maybe since I’m not such a frail little wallflower, I’ll be able to move him.

Cute. Apparently, that’s a very cute thought.

He chuckles low as he easily holds me off with his forearm.

I reach below to his stomach and try pinching at what would be love handles on any other man. I’ve discovered during our time together that this is his ticklish spot.

Indeed, he flinches, his somber face cracking, and I try to use it to my advantage to wrangle him down to the bed.

“Oh, now I’m really gonna get you, witch.” He’s got me spun over and pinned to the bed before I even realize what’s happening.

I’m breathing hard from all my attempts to move him, and he’s just grinning, perfectly at ease as he holds himself up with one hand on the mattress above my head, my wrists caught in his other.

“I bet you think you’re soooo slick,” I murmur. Then I shove my feet down on the bed, arching upward.

Isaak thinks I’m doing this to grind against him and grins, loosening his body.

Ha! I twist my hips, then escape out the side and off the bed, bouncing on the tips of my toes and grinning at him.

“Guess you don’t have me after all, big boy.” I glance down at his boxers to see the evidence of my nickname pointing straight up at me. Again? How is he hard again already? I thought guys needed recovery time. We went at it all night long in between drowsing.

He rolls smoothly off the bed, arms out. “Don’t I?”

I try to lunge past him, but he anticipates my movement. And when I try to juke in the other direction, he’s somehow there, too.

Before I know it, he’s got me hooked around the waist, and I’m flying through the air, landing on my back in the center of the bed, giggling my ass off.

He scrambles back on top of me and pins both my wrists by my head, one knee at my groin. “Got ya.”

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