A Little Green Magic (The Little Coven #1) - Isabel Wroth Page 0,20

extra cream for them when I go back to the manor.”

Uriah didn't say anything in response, but it was obvious if he had his way, Ivy wouldn't be going back. She considered how quickly the universe had spun in an unexpected direction, and how calm her mind was despite the huge shift in her circumstances.

Again.

Despite the easy quiet that lingered between them, Ivy found her mind racing a mile a minute. Uriah stared down at her with a pinch of determination wrinkling his brow, and Ivy admitted to herself, she had zero desire to return to the coven house.

As much as she loved her sisters, the continued dormitory lifestyle—especially sharing two bathrooms with five women—was getting old.

The smell of Callie's botched experiments coupled with the constant tromp of footsteps on the stairs at all hours, the random perverted ghosts that would appear at the end of Ivy's bed to loom over her when Kerrigan was working in the house, or the blast of Juliet's favorite band of the week vibrating the windows as soon as the sun came up, the space music Astrid played as soon as the stars came out...

Rowena was the only one of the group who was quiet and steady. Until Callie blew something up and Rowena got pissed and started shrieking the house down. That witch could bitch when she got riled.

Ivy really did want her own place, she needed it and behold, here it was, complete with a sexy man to pamper and adore her.

“You're thinking so hard I can practically hear it,” Uriah accused with a crooked smile.

Ivy reached up to set her palm on his chest, scratching her fingers into the sparse mat of hair between his rigid pecs. A gooey melting sensation bubbled through her when Uriah shuddered in response, covering her hand with his.

“There's been a lot of change going on in an extremely short amount of time. I'm processing.”

He accepted her response with a nod, going so far as to lift her hand up to his mouth to kiss the center of her palm. Ivy felt a surge of electricity zooming straight down her arm and into her heart. Bliss.

“Maybe a bath would help.”

A bath in the giant slipper tub that looked out on the river? Hell yeah. “I think you're right.”

Uriah grinned and gave her hand another kiss, rubbing the roughness of his scruffy beard against the sensitive skin. “I'll get it started.”

When he got up, Ivy rolled to her side to keep him in sight, biting into her lip to stifle her appreciative groan. Coming or going, it was one hell of a view. She saw him come up short after opening the door, the muscles in his back standing out in sharp relief as tension gripped him.

Ivy even heard him growl under his breath, but when she asked what was wrong, he shrugged it off and disappeared from view.

“Nutthin, everything is fine.”

The sound of the water coming on came next, and with the speed of a sloth, Ivy got out of bed. By the time she made it to a sitting position, a few wicked wheels spun in her mind.

Just because she didn't have the power to cast spells, didn't mean she was powerless.

She stood up, shrugged out of her sweater, her tank and matching shorts, and padded naked into the bathroom.

Uriah had his back to her, which was good, because a swell of emotion surged to see the spray of candles he'd brought up to surround the tub. Feathery ferns sat in pots by the window, the fluffy towels and baskets of potions and lotions made with her own herbs carefully arranged on a bench right next to the tub. There was even a big green bathmat made out of moss that hadn't been there before.

Uriah was busy lighting the candles, giving her plenty of time to marvel at the beautiful transformation that had happened while she slept, but when he turned around and saw her standing there in the buff, the lighter fell from his nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor.

His deep, animalistic growl echoed through the bathroom, sending her temperature spiking, her nipples hardening, as he looked his fill.

Ivy realized, this kind of power was addictive.

The predator inside Uriah—poised, prepared to pounce—was held back only by the strength of his will, watching every move she made as though committing it to memory forever.

When Ivy reached back to gather up her hair, it made her breasts lift and her back arch a little. Another