Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(71)

He thinks…

Oh my goddess, I think he thought he was gonna kiss me.

His head started to descend and…

“Ash!” I screeched in my best fish wife’s voice.

That got his attention.

He winced and jerked his head back.

“For f**k’s sake, Mathilda –”

“Don’t you curse at me! You miserable,” Um? “Cad! Let me go!”

“No.” (Ash)

“Yes.” (Me)

“No.” (Ash)

“Yes.” (Me)

“Cad?” (Ash)

Argh!

“I said, let me go!” (Me)

“And I said no.” (Ash)

And that was it. I was pushing against his chest with all my strength, he was holding onto me with all of his and then it came back to me.

The premonition.

The vision flooded my consciousness with the almost Cordelia-like energy of the day before.

Just as clear.

And just as f**king unbelievably, terrifyingly scary.

In reality, I knew it didn’t happen as I saw it (thank the goddess and all her god-like friends). That Ash was there in bed with me. That Aidan was out there, able to chuckle over mobile phones and irritate me.

Yes, there was a bomb with debris, rock, dirt, pavement everywhere, people screaming, etcetera, etcetera and in the end, all was safe.

But, in my mind’s eye, the vision of what was supposed to happen was stuck. The vision that included the debris, rock, dirt, pavement everywhere, people screaming but also in my vision there was big bits of BMW Roadster, Lush Jag and little bits of the two men in my life.

Little gooey, dead bits of my once-gorgeous hunks raining on Marine Parade while I stood in the middle of the bloodbath that used to be my prospective husbands.

What’s a girl to do when something so icky, so flipping scary and so just plain horrifyingly awful pops into her head?

What else?

I gave up the fight and burst into tears.

This time, Ash didn’t seem surprised by my display or incapable of dealing with it. He rolled onto his back, wrapped one arm around me, tucked my head into his neck and stroked my hair.

“You… were… in… little… bits,” I gulped.

He kept stroking my hair.

“Landing on… mm… mm… Marine Parade,” I stammered.

Arms tightened, more stroking.

“Then… you went… away,” I blubbered. “And didn’t pick up your,” hiccup, “phone when I called.”

More stroking.

“I was worried!” I wailed and then I snuggled deeper into him and bawled my eyes out.

I have no idea how long I cried but once I started to make those mini-catchy breaths and sniffles, Ash moved. He swung his legs off the side of the bed, taking me with him so he was cradling me in his lap and reaching for something on the nightstand.

He then tipped up my chin and started to mop my face with a handkerchief.

When he was done and I had calmed down, I said, “You carry a handkerchief?”

He grinned at me.

“Better now?” he asked.

I nodded.

Pause.

“What’s a princess fortress?” he asked.

Oops.

Er, that bit was meant to be kept a secret. No one knew about my princess fortress and no one was supposed to know.

His grin broadened.

“Don’t grin at me,” I demanded.

“It was the pillow thing, wasn’t it?”

Ack!

He was teasing me.

And he was alive and breathing and able to be annoying for another day.

And so was Aidan.

And everything was okay.

At least for right then.

Thank the goddess and all things green and glorious.

And then, because I could, because I wanted to and because who knew what that day would bring…

I kissed him.

I kissed him with the exact amount of happiness I felt that he wasn’t in icky, gooey, bloody bits but with all his luscious body parts still were where they were meant to be.

Which means it was a pretty hot kiss.

All of a sudden, I wasn’t cradled in his lap but on my back with him on me, his mouth on mine, his tongue in my mouth (and, sometimes, mine in his) and his hands all over me and…

Oo la la…

And…

Me oh my…

“Matty,” That was Ash, kinda breathing heavy.

“What?” That was me, definitely breathing heavy.

My hands were roaming his luscious body because I was sure as hell going to do it while his body was still in one piece (not to mention I’d never really explored a washboard stomach and let me tell you, it felt really, really nice).

He sucked in his breath which tensed the muscles in his tummy (fascinating).

“Jesus, Matty… stop. We have to get to Harrods.”

Er, okay, whoa doggies… Harrods?

He sighed, it was a big sigh filled with big feelings which sounded to me an awful lot like regret and maybe frustration.

Then he told me, “We have to meet Seymour at Harrods in less than half an hour.”

My mind whirled but my mouth didn’t move.

Aidan!

Harrods!

(Wish he wouldn’t call Aidan “Seymour” – great last name, even better with the word “doctor” in front of it but not so good alone.)