Хармони Харт - Basic Witch

“Are you sure I shouldn’t find a hotel?”

“It’s… quaint.” He dropped down onto the couch, sending a cloud of dust into the air. He jumped up, coughing and waving a hand in front of his face. “And dusty.”

“Oh, for… That’s disgusting. You can’t sleep there.” I braced my hands against his back, gently pushing him into the bedroom as he continued coughing. “Look,” I said, gesturing to the bed. “By some small miracle, this is the only clean spot in the entire place. It’s big enough for both of us.”

His coughing fit finally over, Beau wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Gemma. We can’t sleep in the bed together.”

“I trust you to be a gentleman.” But I’m still hoping maybe you’ll be just a teeny bit ungentlemanly.

“It’s not that, it’s…” He raked a hand through that gorgeous head of hair and blew out a breath. “You’re pretty.”

“You can’t sleep in the bed with me because I’m pretty?” Normally I’d be swooning at the compliment, but I had a feeling this line of conversation wasn’t leading to a whirlwind romance. “You are very, very, very pretty. And clever. And interesting,” he continued.

“You just said very three times in a row. Surely, an educated guy like you can come up with a better adjective?”

“But that’s not the point.” He drew his mouth into a hard line. Apparently, Beau didn’t like having his vocabulary called into question, even by a very, very, very pretty woman. “The point is that it doesn’t matter how pretty or clever or interesting you are. You’re my student, first and foremost. It’s my job to teach you, not sleep with you.”

“Easy, now. No one said anything about sleeping together.”

“You know what I meant.” He leveled his dark gaze at me, making my knees go weak in an instant.

“I’m not your student, yet. Our lessons don’t officially start until tomorrow. And as much as I’d like to continue arguing semantics with you, I’m really tired. And really creeped out by this whole situation. And I’d really, really like it if you stayed in here with me tonight. Nothing scandalous. Just sleep.”

He stared at me, considering my proposal, then finally nodded. “It’s probably best we don’t mention this to anyone. I wouldn’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

“Of course not,” I said.

And I meant it. Not just because they might think Beau was taking advantage of a student, which, in my mind, still seemed like a ridiculous concern given the fact that I was in my thirties and more than capable of making my own decisions about my dating life. But also because I didn’t particularly want to be seen as the easy new girl in town. Cut me some slack. Embracing the whole idea of feminine and sexual agency isn’t as simple as it sounds.

Beau pulled the covers back, and I yanked off my boots before sliding in, fully clothed, and snuggling under the threadbare blankets. He drew his wand and tapped it against the wall, whispering, “ Tenebris ,” and the room went dark. But even in the shadows, I could see his lean, muscled form outlined by firelight as he removed his shoes and pulled his sweater over his head, then stripped his undershirt and belt off. I held my breath as he paused, his fingers playing at the button of his jeans for a moment before he changed his mind and decided not to take them off. He slipped, bare-chested, into bed beside me, and laid on his back, drawing the blankets up to his chin.

We were both frozen, silent, in the near-pitch blackness with only the occasional flicker of dying flames illuminating the room. My heart raced in my chest, and I was too nervous to breathe.

It wasn’t like Beau was the first man I’d ever seen half-undressed before. Or even fully undressed. But it was almost as if his presence alone had an undeniable effect on every system in my body. What in the world was coming over me?

I shivered, finally giving into the chill in the room.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“Freezing,” I answered.

“Me too.”

We were quiet a moment more, and I almost thought he had fallen asleep. Suddenly, Beau blurted out, “This is ridiculous.” He rolled onto his side and wrapped a strong arm around me, pulling me flush against his chest. I eased back, allowing our legs to intertwine as he spooned me and snuggled his chin against my shoulder.

“Not a word to anyone,” he reminded me.

“My lips are sealed.”

Beau let out a long sigh, and I felt my breathing fall into sync with his as his warmth radiated through my body and lulled me into deep relaxation, and then, finally, sleep.

6

When I woke up the next morning, I wasn’t sure where I was. But as my bleary eyes widened and the room came into focus, the unbelievable events of the night before came rushing back to me.

I stretched my arms over my head and snuggled closer to the center of the bed, expecting to feel Beau’s warmth at my back. What I got instead was a black ball of fluff who was quite displeased by my selfish disruption of her sleep.

Beau was gone.

“Hey! Stay on your own side. Some of us are trying to sleep here,” Titus complained.

“Says the cat who thinks my face is an appropriate napping spot.”

“It’s the only way I can muffle the sounds of you snoring,” she said.

“I do not snore!”

“How would you know?” She opened one eye and peered at me. “It happens while you’re asleep.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but the feline made a good point. “ I might have liked you better when I couldn’t hear you talking.” I flung the blankets back and sat up, swiveling to plant my bare feet on the cold wood floor.

“Five more minutes.”

“Fine,” I said. “ I’m going to take a shower.”

I padded into the bathroom and stripped down, nearly recoiling when stepped into the bathtub. My brain must have consciously blocked out the filth I discovered last night. I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes and turned the faucet, bracing for an onslaught of ice-cold water to rain down on my head.

But nothing happened.

I opened my eyes and squinted up at the showerhead for a moment before growling in frustration. I stomped over the edge of the tub, barely avoiding a violent collision with the ground, and snatched up my clothes. I pulled on my yoga pants, yanked my sweater over my head and shoved my feet back into my boots. I wadded my wilted socks and yesterday’s panties, shoving them into an empty basket on a shelf. At least I could grant myself the one small dignity of not traipsing around my new town in dirty underthings.

I wound my wild mess of waves into a loose top knot on the way to the kitchen, where Titus was waiting expectantly.

“Mew.”

“You don’t have to do the cute-meow-for-food thing anymore. You can just tell me you’re hungry,” I told her.

“But my cuteness is so effective. Why reinvent the wheel?” She stared up at me and blinked her eyes. “ Mew.”

“Oh, for…” I bent down and stroked her back. “ The mealtime meow is pretty freaking cute. You can keep it. But that doesn’t solve our breakfast dilemma.”

I opened the fridge, taking out the bottle of milk. “ This is pretty much your only option.” I poured some milk into a saucer and started to set it on the ground, then changed my mind when I saw the cobwebs collecting along the base of the cabinets. If there was ever a time to let my cat hang out on a kitchen counter, this was it. “ You can eat on the counter. But only until this place has been properly cleaned,” I warned.

“This will do for now.” She jumped up and began lapping the milk as I perused the herb-filled glass canisters in search of coffee. A few minutes later, she pawed at my arm.