Witcha Gonna Do? (Witchington #1)(77)
“No.” He steps closer so he’s just outside my personal bubble. “But you sure are a treasure to be cherished.”
Ha! As if. I know better than to think he actually believes that.
His reputation with women is well-known. He’s a natural-born flirt with women, men, and everyone else. There are at least fifty fan accounts on social media that document his every rumored romance. Not that I follow them. Okay. Fine. I do, but only so I can keep tabs on him to know where to send the divorce papers.
“Erik Svensen, you can’t sweet-talk your way into my pants again.”
And maybe if you say it enough, Leona Amber Sherwood, it’ll actually be true.
Yeah, my inner horny self can just shut it about now.
“Now, LeLe,”—Erik reaches out and brushes his thumb across my wrist, his touch sending a jolt of desire straight to my core and exposing the otherwise invisible golden glow of the handfast chain printed on my skin—“we both know that’s not true.”
“You’re the worst.” But in the absolute best way if you’re naked and in the mood to get your back blown out.
No!
I will not think about that now. I will not think about how we spent forty-eight hours in Vegas naked and utilizing every horizontal surface and quite a few vertical ones to fuck each other brainless. I don’t think I’ve ever walked the same way after I came home. My body sure as hell hasn’t forgotten. Just being this close to him again has my nipples perking up while my panties are already beyond damp in anticipation.
Why does this guy—and only this one—make me want to forget every good reason to keep my distance and only think about every bad reason to keep him close?
“But you bring out the best in me,” he says, letting go of my wrist and flexing his fingers as if he feels the same electric spark whenever he touches me as I do. Then he takes a few steps toward Tilda and Gil, who still have the ancient spell book. “Come on, LeLe, let’s get out of here before the Council gets it in their head that this is the perfect time to steal The Liber Umbrarum back.”
My eyes go wide as the last word registers. “Back?” I sputter as I turn up the speed to catch up with Erik’s long strides. “They want it back? You stole The Liber Umbrarum? From the Council?”
Of all the stupid, foolhardy, impulsive things to do, stealing from the Council is numbers one through ten on the list.
He stops next to me and shrugs. “All’s fair in love and war, wife.”
“Are we at war?” As my mom’s second, I’ve heard the rumors, but for them to make any kind of public moves to take control of Witchingdom would change everything.
He dips his head down, his lips brushing the curve of my ear in a way guaranteed to drive me crazy and turn me on at the same time.
“When it comes to us, wife,” he says, his voice velvet sandpaper on every one of my most sensitive spots, “I’m all about making love not war.”
I let out a huff of frustration as I stare at him and his loose body language and smug grin as if nothing in the world—not even the Council—can touch him. Can he not take anything seriously? This is the Council we’re talking about, the big baddie of the Witchingdom. Still, if he is insistent I go with him, that does give me some leverage—finally.
“If I go with you,” I say, “you have to agree to sign the divorce papers.”
“Of course,” he says as if I’d just asked him if he wanted extra pepperoni on his pizza.
That was easy. Too easy. My inner warning bells are clanging loud enough I’m surprised he can’t hear them. “For real?”
“LeLe”—he slips his arm around my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and we start walking toward my sister and her boyfriend—“let’s take The Liber Umbrarum home and then I’ll do whatever you want.”
The sad part is, I know Erik is about as trustworthy as a tooth fairy around a six-year-old with a loose incisor, and yet . . . I can’t help believing him.
He’s my jinx.
I’m his curse.
Together, we’re nothing but trouble, but, the fates help me, I’m in the mood to stir up that spell and see what happens next.
I’m not gonna regret this. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like I’m going to stay married to him. A few days, a week tops, with Erik and then I’ll be a single woman again and everything will be the way it’s supposed to be.
I can do this. It’ll be fine. Really. I have absolutely nothing to worry about—especially falling in love with my secret husband.