Always Practice Safe Hex (Stay a Spell, #4)

by Juliette Cross

“And you always stare at him whenever he’s around.” “He’s very pleasant to look at,” she said quietly,

“He’s very...rough around the edges. Doesn’t seem your type.” She smiled as she set a cup onto the drying rack. “You don’t know my type.” Then she gave me a superior look. “Just like you don’t know your own.”

“I most certainly do know my own.” “If that were the case, then you’d be in a serious relationship by now. Not hightailing it after a couple months with every partner you’ve had.”

“That’s because it was long distance. It prolonged the inevitable. Since you were only able to see him on weekends when you went to Baton Rouge or he came here, it extended the regular timeline.” Was she right? Holy fuck, was I shallow?

“Either someone you can dominate,” she lifted one hand, “or a mirror image of yourself.” She gestured with the other., then toggled her hands up and down. “Neither are right for you.”

“So, you’re saying I need a dominant introvert in an opposites attract sort of relationship?”

I thought she was horrifyingly correct. But the idea of stepping into any arena, even a sex-only relationship with a partner of that description sent a shiver tickling down my spine. A tingle of magic responded to that thought, whispering in the air.

Clara said I needed someone I couldn’t dominate and who wasn’t a carbon copy of me, someone whose brain turned me on as much as his or her appearance. There was no denying that I was attracted to big brains.

The thought of being vulnerable with Gareth—because I’d always found sex to be the most intimate and open activities between two people—sent a cavalcade of warning flags flying.

He was a grim. An unknown. And his aura made me want to be very, very naughty. With him. My desire was so blood-burning, throat-choking intense that I feared what would be left after that kind of love affair was all over.

She asked me much less politely, which only stoked my deep yearning for the woman. Every time she tossed me a defiant look or a snarky word, my dick got harder for her.

Her head came up, brows arched, as if surprised I knew the lead vocalist’s name. Then she fell back quickly into the warrior queen veneer that made my pulse quicken.

To have a proud, intelligent beauty like her submit to me would probably scramble my brains, not to mention other parts of my anatomy.

“Your design is perfect for what we want. Awareness and empathy. Nice job, Thompson.”

I already had her number. But yes, I was also trying to see if she’d give it to me willingly.

I was emailing the copy to Willard when I felt her staring at me. Such a lovely feeling to know she might be transfixed like me.

She was right. But winning GMC’s contest wasn’t the only way to launch a successful business. “I need this win more than you,” I stated emphatically.

A dizzying sort of excitement raced through my blood at her challenging stance. I don’t know why but her defiance made my whole body harder than marble.

“I think it’s a fair assessment that you have a need to dominate in all facets of life.” Her eyes rounded, almost as if surprised by something I said.

“Not at all. Women should be on top just as much as men. I can certainly enjoy that fact.” Especially if she were on top of me.

I wouldn’t want to give up my pussy—because let’s face it, it’s glorious—but if I could have both, that would be amazing.” All saliva had dried up in my mouth, and I couldn’t speak a word, my thoughts wandering to how glorious her pussy was and how I’d give my left testicle to discover it for myself.

“Why don’t you let me borrow yours, Blackwater?” she asked sweetly, her gaze dropping to my crotch conspicuously. “But only if it’s big enough. I wonder if it would meet my standards.” “Why don’t you come on over and find out.” The words flew out of my mouth without me thinking twice.

There was no way she didn’t notice how hard my dick was in my slacks, and I sure as hell wasn’t hiding it from her. I wasn’t lying. If she wanted to find out if my dick met her standards, I was more than willing to show her.

It was always there between us. I knew that she felt it too. Especially right now.

He was confident enough already, and I was still on the fence about whether or not trying someone new like Clara suggested was a wise idea.

That perturbed me again thinking about the fact that he didn’t need the damn prize money for this contest. Today had rattled me on multiple levels.

As I headed toward the first empty booth, a figure sitting at the bar caught my eye. And apparently, I caught his. “Seriously? Are you stalking me now?” Gareth’s mouth ticked up into a smile as he slid off the stool, picked up his beer, and strode toward me.

“I was here first, so you’d have to be the one stalking me.”

“I didn’t ask you to sit with me,” I pointed out. “But you wanted to.”

“It’s a powerful language.” He kept his hand still, allowing me to observe closely. “They carry strong magic.”

It was odd. But Gareth was odd, so why not?

No, not a cuff. Those were scales. Without thinking, I reached across the table and flipped his arm, wrist up. The muscle of his forearm tightened beneath my hand, a flare of heat hitting my chest as I slid my hand back into my lap. But he let me look my fill at his ink.

His irises, warmer brown in this light, flushed black, lending an ethereal fathomless quality to them. For a second, I was caught by them, feeling as if I was slipping into an abyss. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

In that single sentence, loneliness radiated from him.

“Aren’t you going to order something to eat?” “I already know what I want.” He took a sip of beer, his eyes never leaving me.

I’d started to get used to this fierce attraction whenever I got too close to him. I’d blamed it all on his aura, but now I was beginning to face the truth.

We were in one of our staring contests again, but this time I wasn’t giving him my battle-ready death-glare. This time, I simply looked, observing his sharp features and his typically relaxed, but aloof expression.

He wore the kind of cold beauty that couldn’t be touched. Like nothing would shake the austere, haughty mask he wore so well.

And those eyes. I’d once called them soulless. In reality, they were dark, endless pools that sparked with inner fire.

All of him along with his somber yet watchful demeanor gave the impression of a cold, distant but very alert predator.

Yet, I had seen vulnerability crack his cool veneer before. It was fleeting an...

“I’ll taste anything of yours that you’ll let me.”

“I apologize. I wasn’t aware that you weren’t aware of what flirting means.”

I was implying I’d like to have sex with you because I do in fact want to fuck you senseless. I’m glad to know that it was distracting though. Added bonus.”

We are not fucking each other, Gareth.” His smirk widened into a smile.

And now you’re wandering away from the subject. Let’s get back to the discussion on enjoying fucking each other.”

“Also, loquacious?” I arched a brow. “Trying to impress me with your big vocabulary?” “Since you’re unwilling to check out my big cock, I thought it second best.”

“Is this how you woo all the girls, Blackwater?” His smile dimmed but didn’t disappear, his dark eyes glinting with mischief and glee. “No, Lavinia. You seem to bring out the best in me.”

I didn’t have to imagine what he was thinking about because it was clear as day in his dark, hungry gaze.

The fact was I did not blush easily. It was him. But I sure as hell wasn’t about to admit that he got to me more than any man or woman I’d ever had a crush on.