Don't Hex and Drive (Stay a Spell #2) - Juliette Cross Page 0,99

to let him come inside you with nothing between us. No boundaries.

Think on it.

Yours, Devraj

The chart that came with the note was dated yesterday afternoon, two pages long, and completely thorough with the doctor’s stamp of approval on each page. As if I’d think him a liar without it. He’d also added a handwritten smiley-face on the bottom of the chart on the second page, which had made me smile like a Cheshire Cat.

He’d gone to extraordinary lengths to get the testing completed so quickly. He’d hand-delivered the note to Clara to pass to me last night. Then he’d made himself scarce all day today. I’d expected a text, a call, a visit. Anything after that note that had set my thighs on fire. I was eager to give him my answer, even if the thought of condomless sex seemed so intimate. Too personal. Especially if this thing was just a temporary fling.

I mean, in theory, the sex could be better without a condom, the sensations more intense. Yet again, I squeezed my thighs together, heat pooling between my legs at the thought. I’d been like this all day, a complete mess of hormones and flaming, unrequited desire. How could he send me that note and then just leave me totally alone all day? And afternoon. And night.

It was the longest, most torturous day I could remember. Not only had I been considering his proposition, I’d been thinking of other things I wanted to do with him. I was rather shocked at how wild my sexual appetite had gotten. I’d never been shy in the bedroom, even though I’d had less than enthusiastic partners in the past. But Devraj had set something free, finding the sensual woman I’d buried beneath hours of gardening and bookkeeping and healing.

As someone who always cared for others, expending magic to heal and nurture other people, it was shocking to discover I’d been ignoring my own needs. And that Devraj was the one who could satisfy them, tend to me with unwavering care and passion. He’d delved inside and called to that carnal creature I kept tucked away. And I wanted more of him. So much more. I ached. I burned.

Prickly awareness tingled along the bare nape of my neck since my hair was tied in a messy bun. I spun halfway around on my stool to find Devraj standing in my open doorway to the balcony, leaning against the jamb, hands in his pockets and the devil in his eyes.

Wow. Did he look delicious. Faded jeans low on his hips, white T-shirt form-fitted to his muscular chest, wavy black hair around his shoulders, and lust cloaking him from head to toe. I wasn’t sure if he was putting it off or if it was coming from me or both, but I was suddenly aware I was in a sheer spaghetti-strap nightie with nothing but lace panties underneath.

“You got my note?” he asked casually. Like he wasn’t ready to eat me alive.

“I got it.”

His gaze strayed from the note on my desk to the letter I’d been writing to Mom. Trying to write, anyway.

“What’s that?”

Glancing at my desk, I lifted the thick fibrous paper I used for writing and opened my desk drawer. “Just writing a letter to my mom.”

He chuckled. “You know you can text or email her, and it would be much more efficient, right?”

Ignoring his sarcasm, I said, “I prefer handwritten letters. They’re more personal.”

He walked slowly to the edge of my bed behind me, and sat. It was strange. Usually, there was a lightness between Devraj and I. His charismatic nature causing a buoyancy that inflated the air around him. But tonight, there was a distinct heaviness between us. A density that weighed the air with serious thoughts. Serious desires.

“I should’ve known,” he said with a hint of wonder, voice a low rumble. “You can infuse your magic into writing, can’t you?”

As a witch who was weak in telekinesis and psychic abilities, the basic magic every witch wielded without even blinking, I cherished this second gift as a side effect of being a powerful Conduit.

I was still sitting sideways to him, feeling quite shy all of a sudden. I’d thought I’d gotten past this feeling with him, but the note, coupled with my near-nakedness and him being in my bedroom, my personal haven, had me speaking soft and low.

“I can,” I answered.

I picked at a frayed thread on the green cushion of my stool, but I could feel his stare burning