Witcha Gonna Do? (Witchington #1)(63)
I can understand. From the outside, the idea of me being magical probably seems like a mix between a miracle and the most amazing gift from the fates ever. I’m sure he expects me to be thrilled at the possibility, to clap my hands and dance in celebration. The thing is though that I’ve spent my life thinking that the only thing that could possibly make me special was the one thing I didn’t—and could never—have.
But I’ve been wrong.
“If this whole disaster has taught me anything it’s to be honest with myself and others. I like you, Gil. No, I more than like you.” Okay, I didn’t mean for that bit to come out, but I’d already asked him to bang me, so in for a penny, in for a pound. “And for the first time in my life I don’t feel like a dud. I may not have all of the magical skills my sisters have—and definitely not that my mom has—but that’s okay.” The truth of it fills me back up with that bubbly sense of expansive excitement. “I have talents. I can do things. I can help carry out a heist that Witchingdom will be talking about for decades. I wasn’t just a part of all of this out of pity or a sense of family responsibility but because I had something to contribute.” Something that went beyond scheduling social media posts and taking casual photos of my mom that she absolutely hates. “Do you know how rare that is for me? To be needed? To be wanted? To be an equal? It’s really fucking rare. Tonight showed me that it doesn’t have to be. And I have you to thank for that. Not because of how I feel about you, but because you and Birdie and Eli and Vance opened my eyes. Now I understand that I don’t have to be what people expect. I can be more. I can be me.”
There is something freeing to the realization, a power to knowing that being myself is enough. It’s like being in the air again, flying so high the air is frigid and the view stunning. I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared out of my mind, but wow what an opportunity.
“Tilda,”—Gil takes my hand, brings it up to his mouth, flips it over, and kisses my wrist right where my pulse is going faster than a race car with a nitro booster—“you are a pretty fucking fabulous person to be.”
And I thought my heart was speeding before.
“Are you sure I was wrong with the tarot cards?” Please say yes.
He nods, his gaze intense as he watches the water droplets dripping from the ends of my hair, traveling down my neck, and from there sliding down the valley between my boobs. Thank the fates for the wall behind me, because it’s suddenly so hot in this room that I am worried about passing out from sexual tension. You doubt that’s possible? Oh honey, trust me, it is.
“I’ve never been more glad to have shitty witchery skills in my life.”
He manages to force his gaze back up to my face and cocks his head to the side. “Why?”
“Because I’m falling for you and the cards kept showing you and Leona being together. She’s the most powerful out of us sisters, and I just—” Really need to shut up because he’s gone from looking at me like he’s going to lick me wet before he licks me dry to laughing out loud.
“Leona.” He steps close enough that my breath catches and my hormones go haywire. “Isn’t.” He plants his hands on the wall on either side of my shoulders. “My type.” He dips his head, bringing his lips close to my ear, and whispers, “You are.”
So there’s only so much a woman can take before she snaps. I have reached that limit.
The next thing I know, I’m kissing Gil with everything I have—and he’s kissing me just as good right back.
It’s amazing, but it’s not enough, not after last night. I need more. I need him naked and inside me. Now.
The wet buttons of his shirt slip in my grasp and it takes me a few attempts, but I manage to undo his white tuxedo shirt while kissing the ever-loving hell out of him. I can’t help it. I want all of him and I want it now. I want to taste every inch of him, hear him groan out my name as his fingers tangle in my hair while I’m kneeling between his legs, feel him come so hard that it makes his knees buckle. I want all of that. Then I want it again. Tonight. Tomorrow. The day after and the day after that to infinity.
That’s not a lot to want, right?
Yeah, I know, it’s everything, but after tonight it seems like believing this could be that isn’t such an out-there thought.
“Is this too fast?” I ask as I pull his shirt free from his tuxedo pants and yank it down his arms as he kisses his way up my throat.
“Afraid of scaring me off?” He sucks my earlobe into his hot mouth. “Not possible.”
My hands go to the button on his pants. I’m so desperate for him to be naked, it’s like I am barely in control—but I still am, so I stop even though it goes against my every instinct and look up at him. “Gil.”
A plea? A promise? Both. Definitely it’s both.
Instead of answering though, he pushes the straps of my slinky green dress down. The sequined gown slides down my body to pool around my stilettos. He glides the back of a knuckle down the satin straps of my bra, over the unlined lace cups, coming so close to my aching nipple but not quite touching it. My breath is coming in pants and I’m so turned on that my core clenches with anticipation. After teasing me to the point that I’m biting down on my bottom lip, Gil trails his fingertips over the gentle rise of my belly and to the edge of my panties’ waistband. Desire, hot and needy, has me on the edge of coming, and the man hasn’t even touched my swollen, desperate clit.