Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(13)
“Well what?”
Ack! The nerve.
“The Mathilda Register?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Sebastian is most provoking.
The library is huge and very Professor Higgins in My Fair Lady but bigger. There are two spiral staircases on either side of the room leading to wrought iron railed landings. Books piled upon books shoved here, there and everywhere (even, in some cases, stacked up in piles on the floors and tables). There is a huge fireplace a la Citizen Kane (okay, not that big) faced by a couple of worn, comfy couches and lazy, lovely velvet chairs with ottomans with tassels and in front of the window a big, heavy, carved wooden desk with some wing-backed leather chairs around it.
In short, the library was like everything in The Gables, huge, preposterously imposing yet relaxed and welcoming.
Freakish, I know.
There was an enormous book on a podium, handwritten (unbelievable) which held the list and location of every book in the library (including the ones stacked on the floors and tables and those that had been “checked out” – crazy – what’s crazier is that it rewrites itself every time you take a book or move a book, I’m not kidding).
I walked to it and looked up my name (should have done this ages ago, maybe, but who has time?).
There it was, The Mathilda Register, The Myth of by Hamish Wilding.
And also, Mathilda Honeycutt, The Prophesies also by Hamish Wilding.
Fuck!
“Mathilda.” This was a warning from Sebastian.
I ignored him and started for the M’s.
He followed me.
I speeded up.
(Damn his long legs!)
He caught me at the waist and swung me around (no mean feat) and, half carrying, half dragging me, started marching toward the door of the library.
There was a little tussle, one, not surprisingly, that I didn’t win but did end up thrown on a couch with Sebastian standing over me, breathing kind of hard and staring down with this intense expression on his face.
I stared back at him and was (humiliatingly) downright panting.
Unfortunately, at this point, I kinda forgot about the books and got really turned on by Sebastian staring at me like that. So I licked my suddenly very dry lips and tried to think of something else.
Anything else.
But his lips.
And the idea of his lips…
On my lips.
And on other parts of me.
Yikes.
Ended up staring at his mouth.
He looked away, raked a hand through his (fabulous) dark hair and then muttered, “Fucking hell.”
And.
You… will not… believe this.
He leaned down, grabbed hold of me and hauled me off the couch.
I thought he was going to toss me over his shoulder and carry me out of the room to chain me up somewhere (mm) and then go tell Mavis on me or something.
But instead he slammed me against his body and started to kiss me!
Oh my.
Oh my.
Was not just whisper-soft kiss but was full on, open-mouthed, sexual onslaught.
Oh my.
Whole body (most especially certain obvious parts) got very, very into the kiss.
He wrapped one arm around my waist to hold me close while the other hand went down over my bottom and the back of my thigh. Then he leaned over, hooked his hand behind my knee and pulled it up so jeans did very, very pleasant thing at my crotch while he wrapped my leg around his hip and then I thought we’d fall back onto the couch and get serious when…
“Oh darlings. My, my, my… Sebastian. You know it’s far too early for that.”
Ack!
Auntie Mavis.
Instead of jumping away from each other like naughty teenagers, Sebastian’s arm tightened (though, he did drop my knee). He kept me where I was and took a deep breath. His eyes were closed.
“Mavis,” he said softly with what sounded like a load of regret and not a little bit of impatience and then he opened his eyes and looked at me and – I kid you not – I thought I was going to have an orgasm just from the way he looked at me!
Sweet goddess, Mother Earth and all things charmed and bewitched.
He looked at me like I look at clotted cream, like it was the divine, ambrosia of the gods and I intended to devour, with extreme pleasure, every last bit of it and then lick the container clean at the end.
Fucking hell indeed.
Then he let me go.
I turned and kinda wobbled and Sebastian caught me by the waistband of my jeans and steadied me until I slowly lowered myself to the arm of the couch.
Then he let go and walked away.
Far away.
All the way across the room to stand behind the desk and stare out the huge arched window there.
Brooding Sebastian was back.
Auntie Mavis trucked in carrying a tray with tea, sandwiches and biscuits on it. Bless her, she was after this girl’s heart with the food but she could have waited at least fifteen (thirty, mm, maybe forty-five, er…) minutes.
She started serving, doing it manually which still surprises me. Once I found out about the power we had, I mean, who would ever do anything again if they didn’t have to? But Mavis is of the philosophy (not shared by every witch) that the Power of Wicca, like everything natural, is in limited supply and you shouldn’t waste it.
She totally ignored the fact that she just walked in on me necking with my bodyguard.
As for me, I was still semi-panting and trying very hard to keep it together and not charge across the room, take a flying leap, land on Sebastian and rip his clothes off.