Page 73 of His Whispered Witch

“Terrible,” she said. “You come with land, a home, an entire family, security, amazing recipes, and kindness, and you’re hot as hell. What am I thinking?”

He kissed her deeply then, and she felt the heat of his skin for the first time, which was odd given how close they’d been the last few minutes.

She could let him fold her into him, but she wasn’t done. She pulled back and said firmly, “But even without any of that. Even if we were still in a field in the backseat of your truck, you’re still the best deal I’ve ever found.”

He ran a hand over her head. The sharp, prickly ends of her hair were softening and growing. She’d have to buzz them again. She was addicted to the way his hand felt against her skin.

“I still have the best end of this deal,” he whispered.

“Now we’re going to argue about who’s the luckiest?”

“No! I believe that you have successfully deluded yourself, and I’d be a freaking idiot to try and talk you out of that.”

“Now I’m delusional?”

He kissed her then, and she had a sneaking suspicion that it was as much to shut her up as anything else, but she’d take it.

In the car, this was a frenzy—uncomfortable, sweaty, ridiculous, and perfect.

This was entirely different. They took their time pulling off their clothes and tucking themselves into this giant bed where they would sleep for years.

Doubts twisted through her, and she waved them away. They would be here foryears.

When he rolled on top of her in the most classic position possible and rocked into her with gentle thrusts, she wrapped her legs around his so all of them could touch. It felt like a homecoming, a reconnection, and an affirmation.

Soon, all the existential thoughts dropped away, and the only thing she could think about was how flexible his spine was. They were undulating together, and the friction against her breasts was magnificent, as was the feel of him within. He had her head in both hands; somehow, the nerves of her scalp had become amassive erogenous zone. He was everywhere, lighting every inch of her skin on fire, even the rasp of his calves against her feet.

There was no massive cliff she fell over, and her vision didn’t white out, but her orgasm grew slowly with each roll of his hips. Deep pleasure washed through her, leaving her clean and renewed.

What had she been worrying about? Nothing. Nothing important.

17

When Asher woke alone, he panicked until he saw the lizard perched on the ledge above his head in the early morning sunshine. Penn would never go anywhere without it, right?

The lizard cocked his head and then bobbed it up and down, and the wolf rose within him, recognizing a dominance display when it saw one.

It’s a lizard. Your mate’s pet. Is it really worth her wrath?

The wolf slunk back again, but the encounter left Asher winded. He didn’t know if he was getting tired because there was hope on the horizon that he wouldn’t have to keep doing this so he could recognize just how exhausting it was to be constantly sitting on a volcano, or if it was getting worse. Maybe he would be this exhausted even if he had never met Penn, and his ability to control his wolf and his wolf’s ability to stay calm always had an expiration date.

Either way, it felt like there was a countdown clock within him that was getting close to zero.

He couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t put that kind of pressure on her. He could barely look at it himself.

He rolled out of bed and stretched as the lizard bobbed even harder.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, unsure whether he was talking to the lizard or his wolf.

He dressed quickly in yesterday’s clothes because all of his worldly possessions were still in the back of a truck. He winced. So were the donkeys.

He jogged downstairs past a crowd of people in the kitchen toward the door.

“Ash,” he heard Malcolm shout.

“One second. There are animals.”

“They’re in the stable.”

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