Page 109 of Where the Roses Bloom
The moon was full, fireflies thick enough to light the way. Willow’s skirt trailed behind us, picking up leaves and blossoms.
And just a few steps ahead, like it was closer than it had ever been, the grove welcomed us home.
Same mossy stones, same hush in the trees…the earth disturbed where we’d dug up the spell bottle months ago now, the bottle itself sparkling clean like it was new. Cicadas sang in the trees as Willow walked ahead, turning to spin beneath the canopy.
“It feels…good, right?” she said. “Like we finished the spell. Consecrated it.”
I barely heard her.
Because I was too busy watching her move.
That dress clung to her hips like it didn’t want to let go, caught the light in shimmers of silver and gold. She twirled beneath the moon like some kinda spirit…wild hair and rose-sweet skin.
I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe.
I stepped forward, caught her around the waist, pulled her in until there was nothing but heat between us.
“Willow…”
She looked up at me with those witch-gold eyes I would spend the rest of my life loving.
“Yeah?”
I ran my hands over her shoulders, down the slope of her arms. My hands were shaking; I didn’t care. I needed to touch ever inch of her.
“You’re mine,” I whispered, dipping my head to her neck, breathing her in. “You hear me? You are my whole damn world.”
Her fingers gripped the front of my shirt, tugging me closer. “Then make love to me, Mr. Ward.”
Fuck.
That did it.
I dropped to my knees in the grass and held her by the hips, pulling her toward me to press a kiss to her belly before I found the hem of her skirt. She laughed, holding her skirt up so I could duck underneath it, the white fabric draping around my shoulders.
“Taking communion first?” she asked.
I chuckled. “Consider it a baptism,” I murmured.
Then I pressed my lips against her lace panties, licking her pussy through them.
Willow thrust her hips toward me, and I helped her by catching her leg, steadying her so I could keep licking her, tasting her. I slid her panties down, watching the moonlight paint her thighs silver through her skirt. She trembled as I kissed along the crease of her hip, slow and deliberate.
“You always this sweet for me, Mrs. Ward?” I murmured, voice low and gritty.
She bit her lip, breath hitching. “Only for you.”
God, she was dripping already—slick and perfect—and I swore under my breath as I licked into her, savoring every slow pass of my tongue. She moaned, soft and high, fingers tightening in my hair like she needed something to hold onto.
“That’s it,” I whispered, lapping at her again, slower now, teasing. “Let me taste you.”
She whimpered, hips rocking against my mouth, and Iflattened my tongue to give her what she wanted—just enough to make her chase it. Her thighs shook as I sucked gently at her clit, her breath going ragged.
“Rhett—”
“You say my name like that again,” I growled, “and I’m not gonna stop ‘til you’re cryin’.”
She gasped—half scandalized—and I couldn’t help the grin that curled against her skin. She was so damn responsive, every sigh and twitch like a prayer, like the grove itself had built her just for me.
