Authors: Thea Atkinson
She shook her head. "No," she said. "You will present me on my terms, not his."
She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. Then she laid it full on her breast, feeling her nipples respond unexpectedly to his bewildered touch. In a breath, he became more possessive, cupping her breasts with a sense of command and mastery. She leaned into him and lifted her face to his, knowing without a doubt that he would kiss her and that she wanted it. When he lowered his mouth onto hers, and captured her lips, she felt as though her knees would buckle until she realized her feet had left the ground as he hoisted her higher against his frame.
He kiss was so thorough, so searing that she believed she might actually be catching fire in her own skin and only understood what was happening when she could feel her heart trying to pound its way free. When she felt the hammering of his heart against her belly.
The newfound sense of desire both excited and frightened her and she couldn't afford to allow herself to be vulnerable to another person's wants. She had to maintain some sense of sanity and control.
She broke away from his kiss, burying her face into the bush of hair next to his ear. She sensed the coil of power unseating itself from her core even as she breathed in the spicey smell of him.
"He may own you," she said. "But no man can own a witch."
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