Page 85 of Too Hexed to Handle

‘I should have known you’d be bossy.’

He smirks, pinching my elbow, lightly enough it doesn’t truly hurt, but with enough force a zing shoots through me, one that sends heat flooding between my legs. ‘Do it, Daisy.’

The low growl in his voice has my legs quivering when I rise, turning my back on him. I peel off my blouse quickly, peeking over my shoulder to find Astin standing behind me, spice and hot honey drifting from him as he takes in the sight of my bare skin. I swallow as his chest presses against my spine, like he’s already regretting his own instructions, his fingers pushing mine aside as he dips a finger beneath the waistband of my skirt.

That one stroke has me arching against him. Tugging his shirt, I say, ‘Don’t you have some catching up to do?’

He nips the shell of my ear. ‘Now who’s being bossy?’

I grin as I shimmy out of my skirt, quickly followed by my underwear. For once, Astin doesn’t comment about the mess, or make any attempt to fix it. Turns out the one thing he likes more than the sight of a neat, colour co-ordinated pile, is me hopping naked on to a bed and kneeling before him. I make a mental note to utilise this fact at every available opportunity.

I bet he’d let me un-alphabetise the spices in the kitchen if I asked.

He tosses his jacket into the pile. The shirt he wears beneath is so saturated with blood it has to be peeled off, and he can’t hide his wince, the same way I can’t hide my gasp at the sight of three claw marks sliced into his chest. They are, in no way, a scratch. He looks like he got in a fight with a savage wolf.

‘It’s not that bad,’ he protests.

‘You need a healer.’ I fold my arms, debating whether or not I’m selfless enough to drag him into the streets of Rerta to find one right now.

‘What I need –’ he taps me on my nose – ‘is for you to lie back against that pillow.’

His hands go to his belt buckle and, immediately, I’m liquid. I’ve spent enough time arguing with Astin to know what my chances are of winning once his mind’s set, and, let’s be honest, I’m hardly going to be the best advocate for going outside in the cold when the alternative is getting warmed up by the attractive man currently removing his trousers.

I shuffle to the head of the bed, drinking in the sight of him. In the cabin, I was so overwhelmed that things were finally happening, I never truly took the time to look properly.

Scratches aside, his chest is smooth save for a light scattering of dark hair. His torso is toned, muscles on his abdomen flexing as he bends to pull off his trousers. A pang of guilt reverberates through me at the sight of the badly stitched wound on his leg, which, I hate to admit, could do with some professional attention. ‘I really think we should –’

His underwear drops to the floor, and – oh. Oh. I’ve been so preoccupied with his upper body I’ve never given much thought to the lower. This was clearly a mistake. Who cares about his arms, when I could be staring at that instead?

‘I think you should stop talking now,’ he says.

The best I can do is nod as he crawls over me. His kisses are a charm, putting me under a spell I’ll never escape from, wouldn’t want to escape from. He holds me tight before his fingers drift lower, sliding between my thighs, capturing my moan with another searing kiss as he finds a rhythm.

I move against him, burrowing my nose into his neck, licking the trail of sweat there, biting down when his fingers press into me harder. His breath is hot against my ear, frantic, and the scent of spice is everywhere, dizzying and intoxicating, but my power lies dormant, knowing this moment is magic enough.

It’s that knowledge that has me kissing him with more force, nudging his hand away and rolling on top, wanting to take care of him. My lips glide down his throat, his chest, careful to avoid his scratches. His whole body is tense once I reach his belly, and he wraps my hair in his fist, like he can’t decide whether to push me further or haul me back up.

I take him in my mouth before he can decide. His hips jerk, and the sound he makes has every part of me tightening as I glance up beneath lowered lashes. He stares at me with his mouth parted, his pupils dark. Eyes locked on his, I smirk and dip my head again. The grunt he makes is guttural, involuntary, and I’d give anything to hear it again. I want him undone. Mindless. I want him to think of nothing but the way I make him feel, but before I can do just that, he tugs my hair.

‘Come here,’ he says in a low, rough voice.

Something about the way he says the command forces me to comply. I climb up his body, and, immediately, I’m flipped on to my back. Dark locks fall over his forehead as he settles between my legs. He trails a finger along my jaw, like he wants to memorise the feel of me. I respond in kind, skimming a path along his arms and across his shoulders, relishing in the fact he trusts me to do this.

His eyes never leave mine as he pushes inside me. I gasp at the feel of him, both new and familiar all at once. We might be discovering new parts of each other, drawing out sensations and noises that are entirely foreign, but it’s a natural progression of the last two years of our lives, like every touch and half-smile were always going to lead to this.

He stills, and hesitation crosses his expression. His fingers turn tentative against my shoulders, acting as though I’m fragile in some way, and then he presses his face into my neck. His muscles are strained, trembling, and every slide of his body is torturously slow. I move against him, but he refuses, refuses to give me what I want.

He’s holding back.

And I know why. Damian told me our hexes were twofold, and that much wasn’t a lie at least. Astin lost his heart to protect himself from being hurt again, and being close to me risks that.

Just like my hex allowed me to avoid getting close to anyone. Maybe, deep down, a part of me wanted the excuse, because I’d always been afraid my Souleater side would ruin everything instead.

But I’m in control now. No matter how much spice floods this room, I have no desire to take a single emotion from him. I don’t need to be afraid.

Astin doesn’t either.

I force him to look at me. ‘You’re very gentle for someone who claims they can’t care.’