“You don’t have to.”
“Good.”
We hold each other in the wild grass, accompanied by the rustling forest leaves and distant birdsong.
“What do you want to do about the wedding?” Will eventually asks.
I groan and knock my forehead into his chest. “I don’t know.”
He pulls back and rests his hands on either side of my neck, his thumbs cupping my jaw, then presses a light kiss to my forehead. It makes my heart stumble, like tripping over a branch in the woods.
“Felicity, you are exceptionally endearing for always wanting to do the right thing,” Will says. “Whatever you want to do, I’m by your side. I’ll follow you anywhere.”
“Charging in isn’t the best idea, is it?”
“Logically speaking, I think we need some evidence,” Will says.
“I only have the anonymous requests, but I never caught the delivery person.”
“Then we go straight to the source.”
“Sounds like you have a plan,” I say, and purse my lips, impressed. I love the way the movement makes his eyes dance to my mouth. Somehow, and seemingly without much effort, Will has swept away my previous annoyance.Damn, he’s good.
He moves his hands to my waist and pins them in place there. Just like he did yesterday when he’d had me writhing under his mouth. After cleaning up the workshop, he’d kissed me good night at the door to my room, several times, all while intending to leave. We’d been unable to drag ourselves apart even after I’d yawned in his mouth. It took Mustard jumping onto the top of the cat tower and hissing for us to head to sleep.
“I told you,” he says, closing the distance. The air between us crackles. “I’m at your mercy, Princess. Anything for you.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
I’m close enough to see the gradient of his eyes, each artisan’sbrushstroke of gold. With a smug hum, Will runs his thumbs around the inside of my waistband. The breath of his chuckle tickles as he indulges himself, as he dips his hand over the curve of my bare waist, then hovers, an inch away from my lips, not kissing me, but setting off a swarm in my stomach.Idiot.He thinks he can tease me like this. He thinks he can just—
He presses his lips to mine and my legs almost give. Okay, maybe he can. I’m going toshatter.
“I think—”Will breathes, then dives to kiss me once more.
“Mm-hmm,” I reply, against his mouth.
“We should”—he kisses me again—“go to”—and again—“the Library.”
It shouldn’t be a surprise that I can’t reply, because he decides to run his tongue along my bottom lip and kiss me even harder. It’s intoxicating. Devilishly satiating. It has me flattening myself against him and gripping fists of his hair. He seems to lose his train of thought for quite some time.
“Will—” I manage to choke out.
“Hmm?”
“Your idea?”
“Huh? Oh.”
He licks his lips, struggling to come back to reality.
“The Library,” he pants, and catches his breath. “Maybe…Maybe we can find out what kind of magic they’re planning to use the flowers for. I know a professor who’d be willing to hear us out.”
“So we can work out their plan.”
“Exactly.”
Without warning, Will scoops me up under my knees and seizes me in his arms. My hands fly out behind his neck for balance so we don’t tumble into the weeds, but I shouldn’t have panicked. There’s nowhere safer.
