Page 33 of Witch Bound and Down

"Unless the pair is already strongly bonded," she finished weakly. "Then it becomes a feedback loop."

The potion was working its way through their systems, heightening every sensation, every attraction, every spark of desire that had been building between them. Her skin felt hypersensitive, and every time she looked at him, the need intensified. Between her thighs, she felt a growing slickness that made her press her legs together.

"How long does it last?" Bullseye asked, his voice strained.

"Usually about an hour, but with our magical resonance amplifying it..."

"Physical release," he said, understanding immediately. "We have to work it out of our systems or we'll be useless for driving."

"I'm sorry," she said, her cheeks burning. "I should have warned you about the side effects."

"Don't apologize," he said, stepping closer. The scent of him—leather and motor oil and something musky and purely male—made her mouth water. "Because even without the magical enhancement, I've been wanting this all day."

That seemed to break the last of his restraint. He stepped closer, his hands coming up to frame her face. His palms were rough with calluses, warm against her skin, and when his thumbs brushed across her cheekbones, she felt the touch all the way down to her toes.

"Are you sure? Because once we start, I don't think I'll be able to stop."

"Then don't stop," she whispered. "Don't you dare stop."

His mouth found hers then, and the kiss was everything their previous ones had been and more. Heat and hunger and something deeper, something that felt like coming home. The potion made every sensation more intense—the taste of him, coffee and mint and something indefinably him, the feel of his hands tangling in her hair, the way his magic seemed to dance with hers.

A low rumble emanated from his chest when she pressed closer, and she realized he was actually growling. The sound sent liquid heat straight to her core.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard.

"The hot tub," she managed to say. "Bertha said it had magical enhancements."

"Will that help?"

"It should ease the intensity," she said, though the potion was making it hard to think clearly. Her nipples had tightened into hard points against her bra, and she could feel her body preparing itself, softening and growing slick. "Make it more... manageable."

They walked toward the balcony doors, pausing only to turn on the magical privacy screens. The hot tub was perfect—not too hot, not too cold, and surrounded by screens that blocked the view from anywhere but the sky above. Steam rose from the surface like incense, and the water glowed with a faint bioluminescence that suggested Bertha had indeed added some interesting magical enhancements.

"No swimsuits," Hazel observed, then felt heat flood her cheeks at her own boldness.

"Doesn't seem to be a problem," Bullseye said quietly, his eyes dark with desire. "Unless you're having second thoughts."

"No second thoughts." She turned to face him fully, her heart hammering against her ribs. "But I should warn you... I've never been with someone like you before."

"Like me?"

"A minotaur," she said softly. "I don't know if I can... if we'll..."

Understanding dawned in his eyes. "Magic makes many things possible," he said gently. "And the enhancements in the water will help. But only if you want it to."

"I want it to," she said firmly. "I want everything."

His hands went to the hem of her borrowed blue dress, pausing to give her one last chance to change her mind. When she nodded, he lifted the fabric over her head with reverent care.

The potion made every touch feel like lightning. When the cool air hit her skin, she gasped, her nipples pebbling instantly. His eyes traveled over her body like he was memorizing every curve, and she felt like she might combust from the intensity of his gaze.

"Goddess," he whispered, his voice rough with awe. "You're perfect."

"Your turn," she said, surprised by her own boldness. Her magic was humming under her skin, responding to his proximity and the promise of what was to come.

He shrugged out of his shirt, and Hazel's mouth went dry. She'd felt his strength earlier, but seeing him shirtless was an entirely different experience. His chest was broad and powerful, covered with dark hair that traced down from his chest to disappear beneath his jeans. When he moved, his muscles shifted under his skin like living sculpture. Her fingers itched to touch, to map every ridge and valley.

But it was when he removed the rest of his clothing that she truly understood what she was dealing with. He was magnificent—all of him—built on a scale that made her core clench with want and worry in equal measure. Thick and heavy, the head already glistening with arousal, he was proportioned like everything else about him—impressively large.

---