Page 83 of Bad Witch

His name flashed up on the screen.

If I allowed myself to believe there was a real connection between us, I might think he felt how much I needed him just then, but that was just me being silly and feeling alone. I tapped the screen. “Hello.”

“Where are you?”

“In the storeroom by my treatment area.”

“See you in a sec,” he said and disconnected.

A sec? There was a knock at the door a moment later, then it opened and Fender slipped in, filling the tiny space. Without a word, he shut the door behind him, locked it, then grabbed one of the shelves and lowered himself to the floor beside me.

“What are you doing?” I whispered. I wasn’t sure why I was whispering, only that the tiny room was so quiet.

“Scooch over,” he said.

I did, instantly, moving as far to one side as I could in the small bed. Without another word, he lay down beside me and pulled me into his arms, surrounding me in his strength and warmth. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until he pulled me against his body.

“Why are you here?” I said as I rested my hand on his hard chest.

“Couldn’t go another day without being close to you,” he said against my head.

I wriggled closer, and he wrapped his arm around me tighter. Yes, if I thought it was possible, I might think that somehow he’d felt me reach out to him in my loneliness, in my need to be close to him, but that was impossible. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“I’m so tired,” I said, and my voice cracked. I swallowed down the sob that was clogging my throat.

“I know,” he said and kissed the top of my head. “I got you now, baby. You can sleep now.”

“Okay,” I said, then I let my eyes drift closed, and for the first time in days, I slept.

The next time I woke, Fender was asleep on his back, and I was draped over his chest. It was still dark outside, and I carefully checked my phone. No calls or messages from anyone here needing me. I could rest with him for a while longer. His hand slid up and down my back, and I wanted to press into it, seek out more of his reassuring touch. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already awake. How you feeling, peaches?”

I slid my hand over his chest, needing to feel his solid warmth, to reassure myself that he was actually here and that this wasn’t a dream. “Much better, now,” I said as I carried on lower, over his stomach.

My hand brushed hot, bare skin where his T-shirt had lifted. The heat and texture felt wonderful under my fingers, smooth at his sides and dusted with soft hair down the middle.

I closed my eyes and everything that had happened the last few days rushed back. Iris and Draven and their twins, the shifters who we’d treated, the people we’d lost—the look of betrayal in Magnolia’s eyes.

Drawing in a breath to calm the battling emotion inside me, the guilt and fear and hurt, I forced all of it back out, then took another breath, this time letting myself drown in Fender’s masculine, familiar scent.

The tension coiled inside me loosened and, at the same time, his abdominal muscles tightened under my hand. The muscle there was so hard, it was like running my hand over smooth, sun-drenched marble. The feel of him was fascinating, thrilling, and I continued to explore.

“You keep touching me like that, peaches,” he rumbled into the darkness, “and I’m gonna have to kiss you. And if I kiss you, then I’ll have to touch you, and if I touch you, I won’t wanna stop.”

That voice, so harsh and low, comforted and excited me all at once. “Lovers kiss when they’ve been apart, Fender, you told me that. You didn’t kiss me when you came in,” I said because I needed him to kiss me, to touch me. It was an ache inside me that only he could cure.

“I need to rectify that right now.” Then his fingers slid into my hair, and he dipped his head as I looked up at him. His lips found mine in the darkness, firm and warm and perfect, and he kissed me. It was slow and deep, and it made me dazed and warm all over. His tongue slid over mine, and I moaned helplessly into his mouth, under his spell.

My toes curled and I wriggled closer, whimpering against his lips. Fender had shown me how good he could make me feel, and I wanted to feel that way again, I needed to so badly I ached. My body demanded I get closer, and I climbed on top of him, straddling his thick waist.

As soon as I did, his hands went to my hips, pulling me down, and the hard length of him pressed against my core. I gasped at the sensation and ground down, seeking more. Fender growled low. His hips lifted, rocking against me as he held me to him.

My head tipped back on a cry, and I quickly bit my lip to stop the sound so no one behind the door heard me. Gasping, I leaned forward, and planting my hands on Fender’s chest, I swiveled my hips against the massive, steel length of him, giving in to the heated, needy part of me and rocking against his hard flesh in a near frenzy.

“Want you inside me,” I said into the darkness, my movements wild now. “Please, I want you.”