Page 49 of Haunt Me, Maybe

I felt it the second she decided to move. Aven’s kiss shifted, became more…curious. Like she was now thinking instead of reacting. Her hands slid from where they’d been braced against my chest, tentative at first. I broke our kiss but remained still. I wanted to see what she would do.

“Can I…” she started, then trailed off.

I tilted my head and swallowed a groan. “You don’t have to ask.”

My dick was about three seconds away from blowing, and her innocent question wasn’t helping. It twitched in anticipation. How far would she go? Her touch felt like she was learning a language from scratch; slow, careful, as if she was afraid she’d do it wrong. A trembling hand moved lower, tracing the line of my ribs, then my waist.

She inhaled sharply at the feel of my muscles twitching, and then her thumb brushed my hip. Inside the rim of my pants. I exhaled slowly, fighting for every ounce of control I had left, and kept my hands firm on her back instead of pulling her closer like every instinct told me to. I would not come in my pants. Fuck, I hoped my dick got the memo.

“You’re doing fine,” I murmured in her hair when she paused, unsure. “You don’t have to rush.”

She nodded, a little breathless, and tried again. Her hand slid lower and to the front, directly between us. Up and then down. So soft I was afraid it was a dream. She learned the shape of me through fabric, how I was wider at the base and round at the tip. My dick wept at each pass, and I had to tighten every muscle in my legs to keep my hips still.

Her fingers curled around me, making my dick jump. Hold it together, man! She pulled back, eyes wide, like she was suddenly aware of exactly what she was touching.

“Is that…okay?”

I wanted to laugh. Cry. Beg for her to keep going. Instead, I gave her a gentle smile and reminded my body to maintain its performative debut of a statue.

“It’s perfect.”

She swallowed, emboldened by my praise, and tried again. I moaned when the heel of her palm pressed right against my head, and I leaked into my boxers. So focused on not coming, I didn’t notice the clink of metal or the way my pants loosened around my hips, not until Aven’s hand was pulling my zipper down.

The head of my cock sat under the rim of my boxers, enough to technically be hidden, but at least an inch peeked out. Aven’s thumb ran over the wet tip, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. I wanted to know what expression was on her face right now. Was she looking at it? Was she afraid? Intrigued? I kept my eyes clenched shut because if I looked, I’d lose it.

Her small hand pressed flat against me once more and eased its way beneath the fabric. A moan escaped from behind my clenched teeth, and I knew I was a goner. There was no way I could stop this. I was going to explode, right here, all over her cute wool socks.

Thump.

Both of us froze at the sound, Aven’s hand still around my cock. I leaned my hips away and turned to look at the bathroom door. Another thump, as if something was making its way across the floor of the attic. I recognized the magic and had only a moment to close my eyes before…

Oh, for—Fenn’s voice croaked through the wood, dry and unimpressed. The house is humming, the wards are vibrating, and if either of you grinds one more inch closer, I’m going to file this under magical negligence!

Aven made a strangled noise and swiftly pulled her hand off my dick.

Don’t stop on my account, Fenn added, tone disarmingly pleasant. Just letting you know that every protective charm in this building is currently blushing.

Fucking toad.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Aven

Amber Grove woke slowly and without rush, but you couldn’t see the signs from way out here. On these winding streets, there was only wet pavement, fallen leaves pressed into the road, and chimney smoke drifting lazy and sweet. Wes sat in the passenger seat of my old Jeep, sneaking worried glances at me when he thought I wouldn’t notice.

“You’re doing it again,” he said, and Fenn shuffled in the backseat as he rolled over to listen.

I kept my eyes on the road. “What?”

“You’re pretending you’re fine by holding your breath.”

I exhaled shakily. Had he noticed my lack of sleep last night, too? I lay in bed and listened to the walls creak like old bones. My magic churned beneath my skin, restless and wary, like it knew something was coming. And it was.

Training. Ugh, the word alone made my stomach twist.

Drinks with Briony and frisky bathroom escapades with Wes only went so far to distract me. I promised to give this a try, but that didn’t stop the memories of what happened last time. I didn’t want to feel that again—the way my magic tore loose.

The way Gideon brushed against me from far away like fingers through fog. I didn’t want the ringing in my ears, the ice in my veins—the certainty that I’d been found.