Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

GA'REK

I t's the best night I can remember.

Piper and I talk long into the evening, the only evidence left of the incredible food the scraps on our plates and the fullness in my stomach.

We walk back to her home above The Pixie's Perch hand-in-hand, contentedness wrapped snug around me.

Piper unlocks the back door to the kitchen and Velvet appears, wagging her tuft of a tail and stretching in greeting.

"Hi baby deer," Piper coos, and wordlessly, I go to refresh her water bowl.

Bending over, I pour fresh water in her bowl, and Velvet nudges at my hand in thanks. When I stand up, Piper's watching me, a soft smile on her face.

"Thank you," she says. "You didn't have to do that."

"Sweetling," I growl, something in me snapping at the way she's always helping others, never wanting anyone to help her. My feet carry me to her, and her eyes go wide as she steps against the back door. I put one hand at her waist, the other over her head, and lean in until our noses are nearly touching. "When are you going to realize I want to do things for you, Piper Paratee? When are you going to realize that I want to take care of you? When will you let me?"

She doesn't answer, not at first, just blinking rapidly.

When her small, soft palm caresses my jawline, I blow out a breath, my self-control nearly sapped. I want this woman. I want every last bit of her sweetness, want to give her pleasure until she's weak from it.

I want to show her that I see her, in all the ways. It's been a few weeks of letting myself admire her from afar, of watching her kind heart at work, softening to all the things she does for everyone else.

It's been a few weeks, but falling for her has taken no time at all.

She tilts her chin up, and I'm holding my breath, waiting for her to close the gap, knowing if she kisses me now, my self-control is going to be on a short leash. Her other hand goes to my chest for balance as she rises onto the balls of her feet. I bend down, curving to meet her where she is.

Her lips are impossibly soft as they brush against mine, and that's all it takes.

The need for her that's been building finally crests and there's no resisting her anymore.

My hand tightens around her waist, and when she sighs into my mouth, I lap at her bottom lip. She opens her mouth for me, and I groan as her small pink tongue chases after mine.

I'm on fire. My cock aches in my trousers and precum begins to drip, eager to be deep inside her.

"Piper." Her name is a fervent whisper, a plea in the dim light of the shop we've spent so much time together in.

"Upstairs?" she asks, pressing her forehead against my chest.

"Upstairs," I agree, and I swing her into my arms.

She lets out the most adorable squeak of a squeal I've ever heard, and I laugh, the sound of my happiness echoing in the small staircase. So small, in fact, that I have to crouch and walk us sideways up the flight and a half until we get to the small landing in front of the door to Piper's home.

I set her down gently, immediately missing the feel of her in my arms and against my body.

Piper tugs a key on a velvet ribbon out of her pocket, and the door to her home unlocks with a snick.

I'm beyond curious to see what her home looks like. The café and kitchen downstairs are so quintessentially her they're practically an extension of her personality, with their cozy nooks and mismatched chairs and pink and black and white accents.

She bites her lower lip and gives me a shy look, one arm wrapped around her waist like she feels the need to protect herself.

"It's nothing fancy." She begins to tuck that lock of hair that truly wants to escape the ribbon at the nape of her neck.

I get there first, brushing my thumb over her cheekbone as I push it behind her ear. It's just as satisfying as I've imagined it to be dozens of times.

"I've never had a home," I tell her. "Not really. Any place you touch, Piper, becomes magic. It has nothing to do with being a witch, and everything to do with who you are."

"Oh," she says on an exhalation. Her eyes darken, and she looks up at me from her lashes, her hand fisting in the fabric of my shirt as she pulls me inside her home.

I can't think of a better welcome.