Page 77 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

“It is amazing,” she said. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for all of this.” She turned and pointed at the petri dish sitting on the wooden table. “For that. That could save lives.”

“That’s the idea.” What I didn’t say was that I wanted to create this more for Enid than for anyone else. She was so convinced these plants in her bog that she clearly cared for were useless, that she was the only one who’d ever appreciate them. I wanted to prove to her how wrong she was.

She came to a stand beside me, studying the little dish of blue foam. “I owe you an apology, you know.”

“For what?” I asked.

“I thought healing was boring, and I had no idea why you wanted me to come on that house call with you last week. But I was so wrong. In another life, maybe I could’ve been a healer.”

“In another life? Enid, why can’t you be a healer in this life?”

She turned her head to stare at me like I’d grown a third eye. “It’s too late. I’m—I⁠—”

“You what?”

“I’m not healer material, that’s all.”

I detected a hint of disappointment in her voice, but I wasn’t sure she was ready for me to push this on her. In fact, I suspected the more I pushed it, the more she’d reject the idea.

Enid would make an amazing healer. She already had a strong connection to botany, and she could use that knowledge to help patients. Maybe I’d subtly suggest a book or two for her to check out, or even better, ask Niamh to.

“So that’s what you do up here all night?” Enid’s gaze heated with desire, dipping to my crotch. “Tinker with potions?”

“Mostly,” I said, my voice going low.

She trailed a finger down my chest, and I shuddered under her touch. “What else do you do?”

“Well, lately I’ve been a little distracted,” I said. “So I haven’t worked on my potions as much. I’ve been doing other things . . .”

“Oh.” She bit her plump bottom lip, and godwitches, I wanted to be the one biting it right now. “Like what?”

My breath hitched as her finger hooked into my waistband and trailed over a patch of skin. “Last night, I stroked myself,” I said.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “And what were you thinking about?”

“Oh, I think you know.” My gaze bored into her.

“Tell me anyway.”

I grabbed her hips and lifted her onto the counter behind us as she gasped. “I was thinking about doing this.” I lifted her dress and yanked down her panties. “Fucking you right here in my lab.”

I’d never come so hard by my own hand.

“That,” she said, breathless. “I want that too.”

She worked at my trousers, undoing the laces, freeing my uncomfortable cock.

A low growl escaped my throat as I yanked her forward so that her ass was on the edge of the counter. She roped her arms around my neck, and I pressed myself right against her entrance, stopping before going any farther.

“Is this okay?” I asked.

“Not remotely,” she said.

I stiffened.

“You need to be inside me.” Her voice was pained. “It’s torture what you’re doing right now.”

I laughed, relief flooding me.