Chapter Sixteen
HARMONY rode the roller coaster of Paxton’s bare arms while he turned down the blankets on his bed and set her down beside Tigerstar and her kittens. Was he toying with her? She could go for some mutual toying with . . .
Testing the sexual waters, she rolled over, as if in her sleep, trapped him, caught him around the neck, and brought his face to hers.
She might have initiated the kiss, but he took over with gusto. Heat purled through her in rolling waves, bringing her to life and making her hungry for a whole lot more. Withering witch balls, but the man could kiss.
She moaned, and so did he, then he sat beside her to cradle her in his arms and bring the kiss to another level, raising her up, readying her for anything. When he stopped, out of the blue, she whimpered.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know exactly how you feel.”
He walked away, and she got a quick profile of a mighty fine boner. He sat on the cot she’d vacated, scrubbed his face with both hands, turned out the light, removed his sweats, and lay down, his hands behind his head.
The scent of him filled his bed. Bailey’s Irish Cream, spicy aftershave, and a hint of cinnamon coffee. She inhaled and got hot. She turned her face into his pillow and nearly came. He’d slept there last night . . . and dreamed of her.
She turned to watch him in moonlight. His sexual energy was high, his fantasies clear. He wanted to read her by Braille again, without her shirt. Ooh! He wanted her breast in his mouth. He turned her way. He’d like to see her move, see her cute little ass in the air.
Harmony turned on her stomach and raised her knees a bit.
Paxton raised himself on an elbow, as if he couldn’t believe she’d acted out his fantasy. Great, now he was gonna test his power of suggestion.
She tried to block his thoughts, but she was too blooming curious and terribly turned on. Great. Sure, she’d brought her dolphin vibrators, but what good would they do her with him in the same room?
He imagined her getting out of bed and “strutting” to his cot, removing her clothes, piece by slow piece. She stripped him naked and took his man brain into her mouth, then she climbed on and rode him like a blooming bucking bronco while he lay there and let her do all the work!
“Geez!” she said, sitting up. “I’m a witch, not a call girl.”
He jumped and shouted at the same time, which pretty much woke her to her big-mouthed stupidity.
“What?” He threw off his covers and charged her bed, his boner a sight in moonlight. “What did you say?”
“Put some clothes on,” she snapped.
He growled. “Forget the clothes.”
“The theme for the night,” she mumbled as she pulled the covers to her chin. “Did I tell you that I talk in my sleep? It’s insane, the things I say.”
“Did you say you’re a call girl or a witch?”
“If we weren’t sleeping in a blooming dormitory, you wouldn’t have heard—”
“Harmony.” His low-toned warning meant she was treading water in that swamp of eternal stink again. Besides, he rarely, if ever, used her name.
And what could she use for a defense? Tell him not to fantasize? That would get her out of trouble. Not.
Fortunately, the cats came to her rescue as if they sensed her need. Gingertigger stretched out on her head like a hat. Caramello sprawled across her chest, and Warlock curled up at the apex of her legs, which she was forced to spread. Figures, the only male cat in the bunch, and he liked her crotch.
But Paxton liked cats, so she felt reasonably safe answering. “Well,” she said. “I’m not a call girl.”
“Why would you say such a thing?” he asked.
“Because I’m not.”
“Not that. You practically—”
“What?” she asked. “I practically what? I said I talk in my sleep.” And she sure hoped she’d remember to do it again, so he’d believe her.
“Are you a witch?”
“Withering witch balls, do you have to ask straight-out?”
“Do you have to use withering and balls in the same sentence? The combo makes me nervous as a . . . cat. And of course I have to ask straight-out. What other way is there to ask?”
“You could beat around the bush a little?”
“Give you some wiggle room, you mean?”
Damn. He knew her pretty well. “Something like that. Because, sometimes it’s . . . You know, Paxton, you’re practically naked. Great pecs, by the way.”
“Only the pecs are great?”
“Well, no actually, I’m seriously impressed by your dic—”
“Wait a minute,” he said. “No changing the subject. You’re not overdressed either, by the way. Plays Well with Others, my ass. Now, if the shirt said Great Rac—never mind. There’s no such thing as a witch.”
“Like there’s no such thing as a ghost? Your left butt cheek says different. How can you come from Salem and not believe? Did you never step into that city? It’s full of witches who think they’re . . . witches.”
“Are you?”
“Absolutely certain that witches exist. Yes.”
“Do you think you’re one of them?”
She sighed heavily. “There are some things I can’t deny, and that’s one of them. I’m a witch.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? That’s a helluva thing to keep from an employer.”
“You’re not my employer. I’m an outside contractor, remember? So, in what religion were you raised?”
“A Methodist. What difference does that make?”
“Did you introduce yourself to me by saying, ‘Hi, I’m King Paxton, and I’m a Methodist’?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, I don’t say, ‘Hi, I’m Harmony Cartwright, and I’m a witch.’ ”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“It most certainly is. Are you always this negative, or is it only when you’re here at the castle?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I figured since Gussie spreads negative like frosting, you’d been iced.”
“Yet you’re a regular Pollyanna. Are you immune because you’re the same?”
Harmony laughed. “Hello! Gussie and I are polar opposites. My gift is peace and her curse is strife. There are different kinds of witches, like there are different kinds of Methodists. Some break the law, some don’t. Some do good, some do evil. I’m a white witch. I believe that anything I do, good or bad, comes back to me times three, so I try to do good. I live and let live, give and take fairly, and harm none.”
“I take it Gussie’s not a white witch?”
“I don’t blooming think so.”
“Are you a hocus-pocus witch, with spells and stuff?”
“I can make your penis grow.”