Page 30 of The Witch's Werewolf

Timber knows I won’t do this. He knows I can’t resist sneaking away whenever possible to let him chase me through the woods.

To let him do whatever he wants with me in the wild.

“How did I end up with a witch who doesn’t know what’s good for her,” he asks.

The teasing sends goosebumps down my arms. I slide my thigh along the outside of his leg and he backs me up against the tree.

“You would rather have a wife who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?”

My husband presses against me and kisses me deeply, and I can feel the fangs starting to grow already. His tongue slides against mine, and he tastes like spiced cider and the candy that he’s been sneaking from my stash.

He doesn’t answer that question. He only offers soft grunts and growls as he ravishes my neck, my mouth and my chest with devouring kisses. He presses his rigid length against my core, teasing me with what awaits me tonight.

“I’ll be by the covered footbridge at midnight,” I say. “And I’ll bring my running shoes.”

Timber lets out a soft curse, letting his hand wander under my blouse, sharing his warmth against my skin.

The claws are starting to come out, leaving a ripple of pleasure as he rakes down my side.

“Be good,” he says.

With one final kiss, he’s off.

I watch him bound away into the night, and I wait for the howl.

He always lets me know where he is.

A witch and a werewolf always have their ways of finding each other in the dark.

THE END