Page 72 of A Witch in Notting Hill

“In a spa,” I said, teeth clacking. “With a sauna and a green juice and they only go in for a minute. I have to do a whole ritual in there!”

“Do you have a choice?” Minho asked. “I don’t mean to be tough, but you kind ofhaveto do it, right?”

Right.But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Yeah, but what good am I if I die of hypothermia?”

“No one’s dying,” Oliver said, springing into action. “Min, Lo, give us a minute, will you?” What was he doing? The last thing I needed when I was trying to steady my breathing was Oliver Hadley in my space. But Min and Lo immediately backed off, retreating to a clearing under the trees with Vera, leaving me and Oliver alone at the edge of the pond.

“Breathe,” he said, voice level.

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” I managed a few shaky inhales and exhales, but my lower body wasn’t adjusting to the temperature. If anything, it was getting colder. “With me.” He grabbed my face in both hands, locking our gazes. “Inhale,” he said, making a show of taking a deep breath. “And exhale.” My lungs emptied in one fastwhoosh, and his lips curled into a slow smile. “Again.”

I followed his instructions, syncing our breathing and trying not to crumble under the weight of his touch. “You can do this, Willow.”

I shook my head, terrified to put the rest of my body back in the water.

“All right,” he said, standing from where he was crouched and grabbing the hem of his sweater.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting in with you.”

“Oliver, wh—”

“Don’t argue.”

Fortunately, watching him pull his sweater over his head to reveal his bare chest left me speechless, anyway. I studied the cut of the muscles that carved neat lines across his body, the gold Star of David pendant twinkling on the end of a thin chain, the smattering of dark hair that covered otherwise smooth skin, trailing down his stomach and into his jeans, which were... also coming off.

“Oliver,” I said again.

“Willow.” He slid off his boots, then his jeans, standing in front of me in only a pair of boxer briefs. “Move over.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because that would mean I’d have to put my whole body in.”

“Sometimes the best thing to do is just go for it,” he said, stretching his long arms above his head.

“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t talking about swimming?”

“Because I’m not.”

He splashed in beside me before I had a chance to respond. A perfect dive. When he resurfaced, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me under.

My scream was muffled by the water, turning to a steady stream of bubbles as I came up for air. I turned in a frantic halfcircle to look for him, equally relieved and panicked to find him so close. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed my suspicions: Minho and Lola were still giving us privacy, talking quietly with their heads bent together, far from where we were.

“Right, then.” He smiled, pushing a soaking-wet lock of hair from my eyes and letting his hand linger on my jaw. “Are we ready to do the ritual?”

“Who’s we?”

“Weis you and me. I’m going to do the ritual with you.”

“But you don’t believe in it.”