Page 109 of Hexed Up

And because of that, I can’t tell him any of this.

I have to keep everything tight inside me and hope that when all this is over, he won’t hate me. Because I think that would completely break my heart.

Sadness settles in my stomach, but I suppress it, calling on all my limited acting skills to force a teasing smile onto my face.

“How could it not be?” I say, lightly. He can tell I’m not being serious and he turns his head back to the road. “When all this is over, and you’re cured of your affliction, and back to dating supermodels–”

“I’ve never dated a model.”

“Sure. But, anyway, when all this is over, you can rest assured that all my future romantic partners are going to have a lot to live up to in the cunnilingus department. No wonder so many of the women leaving your flat look a little cross-eyed.”

“I want to assure you, Molly, that I’ve never been as enthusiastic about cunnilingus as I have been with you.”

“Probably the effects of the potion.”

Disappointment seems to flicker momentarily in his eyes and he returns his attention back to the road. “Yeah, the potion,” he says.

We’re quiet as we arrive back in Hampstead and he descends into the underground car park and parks up the car. We take the stairs up into Heatherley Court and to our hallway, our hands hanging by our sides the whole way, me itching for him to touch me, for his skin to brush against mine.

Outside my door, we hesitate.

“Thank you again for coming tonight, Molly,” he says, his eyes such a deeply blue colour I won’t ever be able to look up at the sky again and not think of him.

“What are friends for,” I say.

He nods and for a moment I think he’ll say something more.

He doesn’t, he turns away and disappears inside his own flat.

I linger in the hallway, leaning back against my door and closing my eyes.

“We’ll always have the games room,” I mumble to myself and then I open the door and slip inside, quiet not to wake my sleeping dog.

I’ve been inside barely a minute when there’s a light knock. It isn’t very loud, but it’s enough to have me jumping and yelping, which sets McGruff off.

“Go back to sleep,” I tell him.

He looks at me, yawns, and settles back down in his basket, and I turn around and tiptoe back to the door. Sliding back all the locks and bolts, I open it just a crack.

It’s Horatio. Who else?

His hair’s all messed up, as if he’s scrubbed his hand back and forth through it, and his eyes are wild.

“Molly, I–” he begins.

But he doesn’t finish, as I fling the door open and jump straight up into his arms. He catches me deftly, without even a grunt, and I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. His hands are on my bum, and I can already feel himhardening through the front of his trousers, pressed up against me.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he points out.

“I apologise. What was it you wanted to say?”

“That I want you, Molly Eccleston,” he growls.

“Are you sure?”

“Damn sure!”

“But the potion and–”