“Kiss me,” I blurt out.
“What?” he asks, looking at me like I’ve lost it.
“Kiss me and watch what happens. Look at it now, remember what it looks like. Ready?” I ask, checking his face for confirmation.
I reach my hand behind his neck, turning him into me as I press my lips against his softly. His mouth is like a pillow beckoning me home. I can’t help but to lick the seam of it, begging him to open and let me in. He complies and we get lost in the fervor of our make out. I slide up and over his lap so I’m straddling him, my skirt hitching up around my waist. Holding his face in both my hands, I dive deeper into the kiss. It’s like we are making up for lost time, both taking what we need and infusing it with passion, frustration, and something else. After a few minutes, we split, gasping for air. He smiles at me, a shy, adorable grin that’s made even cuter by his swollen lips.
“I’m not sure what was supposed to happen, but God, babe. I could do that for a very long time.” He presses another soft kiss to my lips.
“Me too, but look.” I put my arm in front of his face so he can see it. Where everything was in stark black before, the tattoos are in vivid color now. There are lips dancing on my arm and even Boo is making a smoochy face.
“H-how? This can’t be real,” he says, scraping a hand down his face in denial.
“I told you. It’s magic.”
“Magic isn’t real.”
“Clearly, it is.” I widen my eyes at him. There’s literally no other explanation for why this could be happening. He doesn’t need to understand it, Lord knows I don’t.
“I just, uh, I’ve never believed in magic. But Iamsorry I didn’t believe in you,” he says, looking up to the ceiling and taking a deep breath.
“I know it’s weird. Believe me, I feel it and see it change every day. But it’s here, and you’ll get used to it.” He won’t, I haven’t. But what am I supposed to say? The hunt for Irina has been futile at best. Unless I embrace the tattoo, she won’t help me get rid of it.
He kisses me again, a deep open-mouthed kiss. He slides his hand over my backside, under my skirt, but then pulls away, biting my lip slightly on the retreat. Sam glances at my arm like he’s testing a theory, and fireworks erupt in little blazes of glory among the vines. It usually tingles or burns when the pictures change, but for some reason right now, it’s like each little shift on the movie reel sends a zap down my spine and into my center. I want him, maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anything. This is what we’ve been building toward. There’s an undeniable chemistry between us, and each time we have kissed, I get a little closer to not being able to control it.
I reach for his pants, trying to unbutton them, but he places a hand on top of my fingers to stop me. “Olive, if we are doing this, I need to know something first.”
“What is it?” My words come out a little exasperated, and he chuckles before wrapping me tightly in his arms and kissing my neck.
“I need to know you will be honest with me. I know why you kept this a secret, or at least, I think I do. I would have. But there can’t be anything else. I’m already feeling things for you that scare me. I don’t want to get my heart broken,” he says. My heart melts. I don’t want to get hurt either, and while I’m scared to open up to him, right now I can’t find it in me to care.
“I promise, if any more witches approach me, you will be the first to know,” I say, shifting so I can look him in those deep blue eyes.
“Wait, she approached you?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“When I was walking home from the festival.”
“Jesus, Olive. You walked home alone? In the dark? With a thousand strangers around?” Sam bristles and shakes his head.
“I, uh . . . yeah. I promise I will be more careful. But I am an adult, I run alone all the time in the dark.”
“I guess that’s good enough for me, just be more careful.” Sam stands, hoisting me with him and carrying me upstairs. We pass by two doors, probably spare bedrooms, and bump into the wall a few times when we get distracted and start kissing again. We can’t help it. It’s like now that the burden of my secret has been eliminated, I’m powerless to stop my desire to rip his clothes off. Finally, he pushes the door to his bedroom open, walks in, kicks the door closed with his foot, and plops me on the bed.
I reach out, grabbing the waistband of his jeans, and return to work on unbuttoning them.
“Olivia Bowman, stop it right there,” Sam says in a growly command.
I pout and cross my arms.
“I’m a gentleman. You are not going to do anything to me until I’ve worshiped every part of your beautiful body. Pout all you want, baby. But you won’t be sorry when you’re screaming my name.” Goosebumps race over my skin, popping up faster than my brain synapses can fire. He trails a finger across the sparks igniting on my arm. “Look at that, my good girl likes it when I talk dirty. This is insane, but I think it might be useful.” Sam grins as he playfully reaches the hem of my top to lift it over myhead. I glance at my arm. Little flames are burning red-hot all over it.Damn it, this thing is already giving everything away.
Sam kisses my neck, sucking on that tender spot right above my collarbone then moving lower to my lace bra. He licks my nipple through the fabric before saying, “You are stunning. Are you sure you want to do this?”
I don’t have to say a thing. A single look at my arm reveals tiny blinking signs that read yes, yes, yes. Sam reaches behind me with one hand to unfasten my bra. As quickly as it falls down my chest to the floor, he leans over me, laving on each breast until they form tight peaks. A moan sneaks out of me from the attention. Sam shows his appreciation by returning to kiss my lips in a slow, gentle press.
