Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(40)

I started panting.

“What whole bodyguard thing?” Ash murmured.

“Well, um… won’t this… kind of… ”

Panting and unable to finish my thought some time later, doggedly, I went on.

“I mean, yesterday… The Prophesies… The Chosen One gig… er… black dragon… ” More panting. “You know… or, the fact that we haven’t even been out to dinner, or, a… uh… movie… is this the right thing to do?”

Ash didn’t even pause with what he was doing, anything he was doing.

But he answered.

“Considering The Prophesies say you’re to bear me three children, I don’t think…”

Ack!

Ackity ack ack!

Ack!

Hold on a minute!

I froze.

Then I shouted, “What?”

“Two sons and a daughter,” he murmured into my neck.

I reared back rather violently (must… ignore… pain… in… chest!) which caught Ash off guard. Instead of going back, my bucking and Ash compensating caused us to roll over…

Ash on his back…

Me on top.

Being the brainiac I am and in my complete panic after hearing future-father-of-my-unborn-children news, I lifted both knees to pull myself away and escape, escape, escape!

I ended up straddling him about ready to push off to leap from the bed when Ash’s hands landed on my h*ps to keep me where I was.

“Hang on,” Ash growled.

Ack!

Two sons…

And…

A daughter.

“What? Do The Prophesies say we’re supposed to get married or something?” I said, kinda flippantly, like that would ever happen.

“Yes,” Ash answered.

“What?” I shouted again. “What, what, what?”

I tried to push off and somewhat succeeded and got to my feet beside the bed but he came up after me, caught me and spun me around. I collided with his body (“Careful,” he said quietly, trying to hold me still but again, not the time to collide into a gorgeous man’s body – not when in full-on-panic-mode-escape-escape-escape-two-sons-one-daughter-second-degree-burns-on-chest-yikes!).

He shook me gently. “Mathilda, calm down.”

“I’m not marrying you,” I blurted it out. I couldn’t help myself.

“Yes, you are,” he answered, completely calm and looking at me somehow amused.

How was this amusing?

Ever?

In the History of Amusing Things, how does this fit?

“Witches get married and then never see their husbands again!” (Me)

“Mm.” (Ash, clearly unconcerned at this juncture)

“Their children grow up fatherless.” (Me)

“Not exactly.” (Ash)

“It’s not going to happen.” (Me)

“Yes, it is.” (Ash)

“No… no… what? Are you asking me to marry you… like, now?” (Me – ack!)

“No.” (Ash)

“Well then?” (Me)

Ash had one hand at my back, one hand not at my back.

“What are you doing?” (Me – hysterical.)

“Matty.” (Ash)

Wait!

Ash never called me Matty.

By the way, a couple of Ash’s fingers had gone renegade from this rather important conversation we were semi-having. And his fingers’ antics were causing me to lose track of the conversation.

In fact, losing track was not the way to put it.

We ended up standing there, one of my legs curled around Ash’s hip, my hands in his hair and his fingers doing the talking.

It was his turn to avoid my lips but he was just being perverse.

“I wanted to say…” Ash, voice slightly husky, “You were impressive yesterday.”

A compliment on my Craft?

From Ash?

I opened my eyes to look at him and he was looking at me in that clotted cream way again and I have to admit, I lost it.

As in, really lost it.

In a very, very nice way.

In other words, an orgasmic nice way (literally).

(I lost it so much, I think I might have even bit him, just a little bit, on the shoulder.)

When I’d pulled it together, still holding onto him, he said, again in that husky voice, “And impressive just now.”

Eek!

Of course, he walked out after that.

He didn’t leave me standing there but kissed my f**king nose and sat me on the edge of the bed, leaned in close then whispered, “You owe me one.”

Then he took off, only wearing the jeans he obviously slept in.

Leaving me in his t-shirt.

Leaving me with the smell of him in his t-shirt.

And the feel of his fingers.

Yowza.

It would seem I owe him at least three.

* * * * *

I remember watching Dynasty and thinking Joan Collins was the shit with all the drama and lacy peignoir sets and Blake and Dex and everyone coming out with those sexy one-liners and exiting a room.

Oh, my heart.

I ate it up.

But, no one lives like that.

No one.

But me.

(Without the lacy peignoir sets.)

* * * * *

By the way: Ash + Six Pack = Yes.