He was fighting a losing battle against his desire, but he forced himself to pin her hands above her head, wrap his belt around them, and tie them tightly to the bed frame.
Stella looked up at him, her face and neck flushed, her eyes hooded.
She was beautiful like that, and she neededhim.
“No way,” he said, jerking himself away from her.
“Come back,” she whined.
Teddy crossed the room and went straight outside. He stood in the cold for an hour, listening to her muffled whining through the door.
Finally, when she was quiet and the heat in his body had cooled from an inferno to a bonfire, he stepped back into the cabin.
Stella was asleep. Her head lolled against her arm, Teddy’s shirt rumpled around her thighs. Her face was soft, but her cheeks were still rosy, and he was relieved that she looked so vital.
Teddy slumped into the plush chair by the fire and finally gave in to his exhaustion.
25
STELLA
The first thing Stella was aware of when she woke was the ache in her arms. Her hands were tied above her head. She yanked on the binding before her eyes were even open, and it was only when she heard the clatter of the buckle against the wood that she remembered why she’d been restrained.
Mortification froze her in place. She had thrown herself at Teddy. She’d begged him to touch her.
She stared at the ceiling, waiting for the feeling of utter humiliation to dissipate. Her cheeks burned at the memory, even as her body still hummed with desire.
The fever in her blood had broken and the effects of the herb had mostly dispersed. Her muscles were knotted with effort and anticipation, but she’d slept heavily and her mind was finally clear. Her sense of magic was still weak—a clear sign of how dangerously she had depleted herself to save Teddy.
The blankets had been pulled up over her legs. While she was still sore, her muscles ached less than they had the night before.
She had a vague recollection of Teddy’s warm body next to her—of him strapping her to the bed because she wouldn’t stop grabbing him. She remembered him leaving her to wear herself out, and thenshe had a foggier memory of him returning and lying down beside her.
Had he really done that or was it some fever-dream fantasy? The memory of writhing against him and his voice low and breathy, telling her to sleep now and he’d give her what she wanted later.
“I know you’re awake.”
She turned her head slowly to delay the humiliation.
Teddy sat in the chair by the fire. He was still shirtless, but his hair was damp and the cabin smelled faintly of his citrus and cedar soap. He smirked at her, as if reading the pattern of her thoughts.
“Sleep well?”
“How long was I out?” she asked.
“I think a few hours. I slept for a while too, but it’s still full dark outside. I’ve been up for a bit. I wasn’t sure how long the calla root would stay in your system, and I didn’t want to deal with you begging while I bathed.”
Stella’s cheeks burned, and he grinned wider and stretched, his muscles rippling as he moved.
“Not that I blame you.” He took a long sip of tea as if savoring her glare.
“I’m feeling much better. Clear of the influence that made me delusional,” she said.
Teddy arched a brow. “Oh, trying denial, are we?”
Stella huffed a breath. “There’s nothing to deny. I was under the influence.”
“Were you under the influence when you were gawking at me changing in the boarding house? When you were rubbing your ass against my cock and trying to get me to touch you when you woke up?”
