As always, it was like playing with fire.
Ever so prickly, intense, yet coy. Such was Eden. Soft lips, inviting tongue, and compelling moans. Kissing this woman was always like walking on a tightrope—a desperate attempt at staying in line, only to crash and burn after the inevitable fall.
She had to be a witch.
Had to be.
At the same time, Curtis had to be the certified idiot who would allow himself to be bewitched. Again. And again.
Obviously, he was that stupid.
They separated.
Mouths parting as if hesitantly.
But before their heads could turn toward the intruding footsteps, Eden's thumb brushed up to Curtis's lips, wiping away the lingering traces of her mouth with a slow, deliberate motion.
His eyes widened.
And he was certain the corner of her mouth shifted upward ever so slightly.
Clearly, being next to this woman was really not good for his health.
But at this point, being surrounded by new eyesores was not good for his life, either.
