“Possessive.”
“Exceptionally.” He pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. A lot of men could kiss, in theory, but Maggie had never felt like a mere kiss was devouring her. Not until Sondre.
When he pulled back, she teased, “So give me something to remember, man-witch.”
He had the look of a man on a mission as he dropped to his knees and lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. “With pleasure.”
Time seemed to melt as her world was reduced to Sondre’s agile mouth. Almost a century of living might be a factor, or maybe it was him, but she was muttering unintelligibly in mere seconds, knees shaking, body trembling.
Several moments later, she managed to say, “Can’t stand. Too much… Sondre. I’m… going to fall.”
But he didn’t relent.
Her hands dug into his shoulders.
“I need… I’m…” She didn’t fall, even as her whole body trembled and went limp. Sondre lifted her as her orgasm washed over her, and, in a blink, she was sliding down his body.
Maggie wrapped her legs around his hips as he walked to his bed. She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment to catch her breath.
“You’re a god,” she whispered against his throat.
“Does that mean you plan to worship me?”
When he leaned forward and let her fall the slight distance onto his bed, Maggie grabbed his hips and slid to the floor. “Yes. I think it does.” She licked her lips and looked up at him. “I can’t hold you up, though, so if your knees grow weak…”
He laughed. “I think we can find a solution. Maybe I won’t even…”
His words died on a moan as she drew him into her mouth and set about proving him wrong.
When he stopped her, pulling away, he wasn’t the only one who made a noise of regret. “Bed,” he demanded.
Maggie obeyed, kissing her way up his body, and then crawling onto the bed.
Sondre pulled her forward, standing alongside the bed, and lifted her legs so this time her ankles rested against his shoulders.
Maggie let out a whimper as he slid home. The depth at this angle had her certain no man would replace him in her future. No one had ever left her so satisfied.
Then Sondre leaned forward, bending her in a way that made her grateful for all the hours of yoga over the years. He pushed her wrists over her head and pinned them there with one hand. He had her pinned, unable to move, unable to do anything but wait.
“Please. Please, Sondre.” She thrust her hips upward, urging him deeper.
But he held her immobile for several more moments, as if he needed to prove he had control. “Memorable yet, Maggie? Should we stop—?”
“More.”
He caught her mouth in a kiss and set about making the memories she’d asked for.
Afterward, Sondre held her to his chest, wrapped tightly to him, and she knew that she wasn’t the only one with regrets about their parting.He gave her details on where to hide, how to get out of Crenshaw, and ended with, “There’s a truck there that we use for supplies. Use it to get to town, but leave it there.”
“Come with us,” she whispered, her words muffled against his bare chest. “We could be something.”
“If I did that, they’d come after me. After my years of saying witches ought to be able to return there, they’d think I was starting a war.” Sondre shook his head and then dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You ought to know that theymaycome after Ellie. She’s the first head of house in decades.”
Maggie shifted so she could stare up at him. “Head of house?”
“Some magic is strong enough that the witch possessing it becomes the founder of a new house,” he explained. “Crenshaw creates what it needs, almost like it’s sentient… or the hobs do. I have my doubts about them.”
“Does Ellie know?”
