Page 66 of Witchy Woman

“Ten years, huh?” He scratches at his beard with his other hand. “I’ll be thirty-seven at that point. Jesus.”

“You’re so fucking old.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles. “I want to put an addition on the back of the house. Knock down the wall to the kitchen, add a breakfast nook, and an extra bedroom or two. I want a dog, maybe more if I’m honest, to keep me company in the woods while I work. I’d like to expand the business a bit, although I’mnot exactly sure how yet. I want us to be married, maybe have a kid. Maybe not.”

My heart leaps into my throat, pounding like a freight train. “Married, hmm?”

I think the scariest part is that I like the sound of it, the picture he’s created of our future together. I can see us in the soft mornings in a breakfast nook, with Belle at my feet and some dogs running around. I’ve always liked animals.

“Gonna make an honest woman out of you at some point. I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you a million times—you’re it for me.”

“Ash?”

He turns to me, letting me sink into the deep emerald-green pools of his eyes. “Yeah?”

How do I explain everything that I feel for him? Everything that he does for me?

Hazel never wanted to be my surrogate mother, she never chose me. She was forced into it because she loves me and she knew I deserved better. But that wasn’t fair to her.

But Ash? Ash chooses me every single day. He chose me before I even entertained the fact that I would choose him back. He’s never made me question where we stand, what he wants from me.

He loves me. Me. The bitchy, prickly person who pushes everyone else away.

I have no words for this. So I kiss him instead. Press love and devotion andsafetyinto a kiss that hopefully tells him everything I can’t.

I roll on top of him, straddling his hips and pressing more and more desperate kisses to his lips until he sits up, cradling my face in his large hands.

“What can I do for you? What do you need?” he asks, breathless.

The answer is simple. “You.”

All I will ever need is Ash Cedar. Even if I can’t tell him that yet.

He slows my frenzy, takes over with that quiet, soft dominance that allows me to fully surrender to him. He doesn’t take my submission, he coaxes it. Draws it out slowly and naturally until I’m relaxed. At peace.

He presses biting kisses to my neck, leaving little trails of beard burn in his wake. “Every single part of you is my obsession.”

His hands tear at my jacket, frustration with my layers taking overtaking his calm, cool demeanor.

“I can’t always be naked,” I huff a laugh, helping him remove my clothes.

He chuckles back, thumbing my nipples into sensitive points. “You should be.”

Any reply is lost on my tongue as he sucks one stiff peak into his mouth. Any thoughts devolve into a mindless need for more as I grind into his lap.

“These are perfect,” he says, palming my breast in his large hand. “Absolutely fucking perfect.”

I whine and he moves to the other nipple, sucking hard until I know I’m making a mess of the white lace thong I chose for tonight.

I had a feeling we’d end up fucking in the woods, and I wanted to be prepared.

“Please, more.” I scratch my nails along his scalp, soft black hair moving between my fingers.

He nods, moving his attention to getting my jeans off as quickly as he can. He lays me down gently on the blanket as he rips them and my socks and shoes away.

I’m almost completely bare beneath him, while he’s still fully clothed, and the dichotomy should not be as hot as it is.

“Just fucking look at you,” he growls, hands trailing along my thighs and opening me up to his gaze. “Fucking look at how drenched you are, how beyond beautiful you are. And you’re all mine.”