Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
I wake up in a puddle of sunlight in the middle of the bed. The cushions that had formed a physical barrier between me and my fake boyfriend are scattered about the bed, an arm is draped over my waist, something hard pressing into my butt and warm, sleepy breath drifting across my neck.
“Are you awake?” I whisper ever so quietly, receiving nothing but soft snores in response.
I’ll take it as a no which leaves me wondering how we ended up like this.
I certainly have no recollection of snuggling up to him in the night.
Did he dismantle the pillow-wall when I was asleep and pull me towards him?
Or did we both move this way while asleep?
Thankfully I’m still wearing my baggy pyjamas and as far as I can tell Horatio is in a pair of boxers, which means at least we didn’t get up to any funny business in our sleep. Or at least I don’t think we can have.
Holding my breath, I attempt to wiggle free of his embrace. All it seems to achieve is him tightening his hold, grinding his cock against my arse, and nuzzling his mouth against my neck, and he whispers something dreamily about being totally in love with me.
I can’t help a little moan of appreciation because my body is still sensitive and, yes, bloody horny, from last night, and this is all rather delightful.
Unfortunately, that little noise is enough to wake my sleeping companion. I feel his body judder behind me, then turn rigid, and I can practically hear his eyes flicker open.
“Good morning,” he says.
“Erm, good morning,” I say.
He doesn’t let me go and I make no move myself.
“Do we need to talk about last night, sweetheart?” he asks me.
And fuck, this man! I’ve always hated that term of endearment. It’s patronising and sickly and totally erotic when it’s coming from his mouth in that stupid accent of his.
“Probably,” I confess.
“Did it freak you out? Or were you unhappy with something I did?” he asks.
“No, it’s all me, my thoughts, and my actions.”
“I’ve been told that a marker of a good relationship, fake or not, is communication. So do you want to tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
“I’m a bad person – a bad witch – who’s taking advantage of you.”
“And how exactly are you taking advantage of me?”
“You’re bewitched into loving me. You’re only being nice to me, you only want to be nice to me, and erm, do nice things to me, because you think you’re in love with me.
I feel like I’m taking advantage.” He snorts.
“You’re under the influence of the potion.
It’s making you feel things you wouldn’t usually feel. ”
“Molly, you’re right.” Disappointment spins in my belly, even though he’s being reasonable.
“There are feelings I’m experiencing for you that I wouldn’t ordinarily feel for you.
However, there are other more … lustful and dirty emotions I’d be feeling no matter what.
I’m in bed with a beautiful woman – a beautiful woman whose pussy I got to eat out last night.
A beautiful woman who magically orgasmed because of me.
Trust me, I’d be feeling certain feelings potion or no potion.
Especially certain anatomical parts of me. ”
I can’t help it. I rub my thighs together.
Am I a bad person?
I brew love potions and sell them illegally on the web. Yes, I am a bad person. If I was Prim, I’d be ending this right now. I’d never have started it.
I spin around so we’re face to face. It’s morning and he should smell less than desirable – especially his breath; I bet mine smells as bad as last night’s fox poo. Instead, he smells delicious as always. This man is just too much.
“I’m really flattered,” I say, wincing when his face seems to fall momentarily, “but I think we should slow down. I got totally carried away yesterday.”
“Probably drunk on victory,” he says, with a little smile that doesn’t quite reach those blue eyes of his.
“Probably.” I swallow. “Are you mad at me?” I whisper.
“Mad? Why would I be mad at you, Molly?”
“For being a massive cock-tease. For leading you on and then …”
“Molly, you’re allowed to change your mind about things. You’re allowed to say stop or no or slow down any time you want. I’d be a right asshole if I got mad about that.”
I nod. He’s right, he would be and it makes me realise just how assholey these other men I’ve been dating have been.
“Thank you for being so … lovely and considerate.”
“You’re welcome,” he says and for a moment we just stare at each other and the experience is so dazzling and overwhelming and intense I feel like I might really be under a spell of my own.
Then the door flies open, we hear a scurrying of paws and the next thing we know McGruff has launched himself into the bed with us and is drowning me in a flurry of face-licks.
Honestly, this dog is taking his chaperoning responsibilities far too seriously!
I fail unsuccessfully to wrestle McGruff away from my face until eventually Horatio grabs him by the collar and hauls him off me.
To my surprise, my dog, who has never taken a liking to any male companion I’ve brought home before, does not growl at Horatio’s attempt to separate us.
Instead, he diverts his love attack and slobbering tongue onto Horatio instead.
“Oh man!” Horatio squeals as the dog stands on his chest and slurps at his face. “That is so disgusting.”
“At least he doesn’t smell anymore,” I say, taking the opportunity to slip out of the bed.
“Where are you going?” Horatio says in alarm. “Aren’t you going to save me?”
“Nope. He likes you. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“We just had that conversation about consent,” he says as I stoop down to pick up my wash bag and my outfit for the day.
“Yes, of course, you’re completely right. McGruff, get off Mr Ho– I mean Horatio.”
McGruff, for once, listens to me, pausing his attack and peering at me over his shoulder. I’m actually quite impressed that he’s even considering being obedient, but it lasts two seconds before he’s licking at Horatio’s face again.
“I’m sorry, I tried,” I say. “Maybe you shouldn’t use face cream.”
“I don’t use face cream.”
“Oh please. No one can have skin as smooth as yours and not use face cream.”
Then I disappear inside the bathroom.
When I re-emerge twenty minutes later in a pair of shorts, T-shirt, and trainers, my hair dragged up from the back of my neck into a ponytail, I stop dead in my tracks.
Horatio is standing in the middle of our gigantic room, the fluffy robe tied back around his body.
McGruff is sitting to attention, smart and pretty by his feet, peering up at Horatio’s face.
“What are you doing?” I ask them both.
“We’ve had a conversation about his behaviour,” Horatio says, “and he’s decided he’s going to try harder.”
McGruff yaps in agreement.
“Well, good luck with that. I’m sure it’ll only last about three seconds.”
“We’ll see,” Horatio says, peering away from the dog and towards me. As usual, his blue gaze sweeps my body, landing on my feet and stopping. “Trainers.”
I peer down at my feet too.
“Um, yes,” I say. “Trainers.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen you wear trainers before.”
“My mum’s organised a hike after breakfast.”
“Even when we walked round the Heath, you wore your boots. I didn’t think you owned a pair of trainers.”
“Of course I own a pair of trainers,” I say. “Everyone owns a pair of trainers.”
“I’ve never seen you wear them before.”
Has he really been paying that close attention to my outfits?
“This is likely to be a much longer walk than the one around the Heath. Trust me.” I roll my eyes.
“So is that the plan for today?” he says. “Hiking.”
I shake my head. “Hiking this morning. Then you’re off to golf this afternoon with the boys and us girls are soaking in the spa.”
I grin.
He considers my words, then nods. “Better get changed then.”
“Yep,” I say, skipping to the bed and flopping myself down.
McGruff, as predicted, forgets all about his manners and jumps up to sit next to me and demand some chin tickles.
I think he’s feeling neglected after last night, although I’m under no illusion that he probably spent the evening having the time of his life.
While Horatio is in the bathroom, I flick through the messages on my phone.
Tiggie’s trying to get out of the hike, but despite her emotional blackmailing, pleading and begging, for once my mother is putting her foot down and not letting my little sister get her own way.
There’s a three-line whip and no one is escaping this morning’s hike.
Not even Prim, who’s already been on a forty-five minute run with Norman.
We find them all gathered around the table that’s spread with an array of delicious-looking breakfast items: toast, eggs, bacon, pancakes, croissants, and even coffee.
As I slide into my chair, Horatio this time claiming the one next to me, my mother looks up from her phone, peers over the top of her reading glasses at me and then claps her hands together.
“Oh good. Now that we’re all here, a little announcement.”
Me, Prim, and Tiggie all groan together. My mum’s announcements signal bad news. They always do.
“Girls,” my mum tuts, taking her reading glasses off her nose and tucking in the arms. Then she addresses everyone around the table, including our aunt, uncle, and cousins.
“I’ve had a message from the hotel manager.
” We all stare at her, wondering where on earth this is leading.
“There was a report of an unexplained explosion of magic at the hotel last night, and a Magical Enforcement Officer was sent out to investigate. The matter was logged, although the details haven’t been shared, and the hotel manager isn’t exactly happy.
Safe to say, we do not want a stain on our reputation.
We’ve been coming here for years,” – they have?
– “and not one complaint against us. It must be a mistake. Does anyone know anything about this?”
Everybody shakes their head, including me – although I’m sure my burning cheeks must be a dead giveaway.
Tiggie’s gaze automatically lasers my way.
It may have been Prim that achieved top marks at the academy, but I think my little sister would have actually made a much better enforcement officer.
She can sniff out a lie ten miles away as well as any mischievous deeds.
I’m sure she has a good idea exactly what that unregistered explosion of magic was all about, especially if Prim’s been blabbing about her recent visit to my flat.
“No idea, Mum,” she says, “how about you, Molly? Any ideas?”
“No,” I squeak, kicking her under the table.
“I know what it must have been …” Tiggie says, nudging me back and leaving everyone hanging in suspense and my heart beating at a million miles an hour. “Aunt Jane’s spell to remove that dreadful smell from the dog.”
My mum frowns at the phone. “Well, that wouldn’t register as illegal activity and quite frankly I don’t like the tone of his message. I think I will lodge a complaint with his manager.”
“Don’t!” I cry out, causing everyone to look my way and my cheeks to positively sizzle.
“Why ever not?” my mum says.
“Because … because …”
“Because,” Horatio interjects, “in these situations it’s best to let things slide. Escalate it to his boss and the manager is only likely to double down.” He takes my hand in his and squeezes it.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” my mum mumbles to my astonishment, pushing her phone to one side and pouring herself a cup of tea. I stare at her in astonishment. My mum has never followed my advice that easily in my whole entire life.
Then I shake my head and lean towards my fake boyfriend. “Thanks,” I whisper to him.
“For what exactly?” Tiggie asks mischievously, leaning toward me, and I kick her under the table once again.