A Witch In Time: Magic and Mayhem Book Three Read Online Free Page B

then I pieced the rest together,” I admitted sheepishly.
     
    “What do you think about that?” Mac walked back over and took my hand in his.
     
    It was warm and felt so right—but right didn’t last.
     
    “Um… I think Roger is a perv and you know, I’m not sure he really even has a degree. There’s a big ass diploma on the wall, but that doesn’t mean much… Knowing everything about a person is usually unpleasant. I mean, I don’t want to know about your past gal-pals because I’d have to kill them. Since you’re older than dirt that would mean a lot of killing on my part. Just having left the pokey, I really don’t want to go back any time soon—it sucked… and um… emotion isn’t really my thing, so screwing works. Roger is a douchewagon,” I finished very un-eloquently.
     
    “Roger is right,” he said.
     
    “Wait. What?”
     
    “The rabbit is right,” Mac repeated firmly.
     
    “You’re not going to kick his furry rabbit ass?”
     
    “Not today.”
     
    What the hell had I just done?
     
    “Bon Jovi doesn’t want to have sex with me?” I asked, shocked.
     
    “Bon Jovi definitely wants to have sex with you,” he said, referring to his obviously erect man part by the name I’d given it. “However, I want you forever and if getting into your heart means staying out of your pants, I’m all for it.”
     
    “My Little Red Riding Hood is not happy about this. At all.”
     
    “We’ll have sex again when we mate,” he informed me watching carefully for my reaction.
     
    “Whoa, buddy. That’s blackmail,” I shot back with narrowed eyes and a few sparks flying from my very unhappy fingertips. “And I haven’t agreed to anything.”
     
    “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he replied silkily. “Case in point… I’m willingly calling my Johnson by the emasculating name Bon Jovi.”
     
    “Johnson is a terrible name for a wiener.”
     
    “Nope,” he disagreed with a wince. “Wiener is a terrible name for a Johnson or a Bon Jovi. I do not have a wiener. I have a mammoth… ”
     
    “Ego?” I supplied.
     
    “Yes. And dick.”
     
    I couldn’t disagree with that. He did and he knew how to use it. Shitshitshit. Me and my big mouth.
     
    “So pretty girl, you ready for number eight?” he asked as he pulled me down Main Street.
     
    “Is that a date or a sexual position?” I inquired grumpily as I let him drag me down the street.
     
    “Date. We’re going to improvise,” he replied as he covertly adjusted the crotch his jeans.
     
    “What were we going to do before our new vow of celibacy?” I inquired as I copped a feel of his ass, happy that his balls were probably turning blue.
     
    “I was going to take you out to the tree fort I built in the woods this morning and play Rapunzel. I was going to climb your hair and then do you till you couldn’t walk,” Mac replied as casually as if he said the sky is blue.
     
    “Stop,” I shouted, yanking him to a halt. I inhaled deeply through my nose and blew it out through my lips. Hyperventilating or passing out was not attractive. I held on to him for purchase and willed myself not to shake. “You built me a tree house?”
     
    “I did.”
     
    By his alarmed expression it was clear he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
     
    “Nobody ever built me a tree house,” I said quietly, sucking back my ever-present tears. Sex till I couldn’t walk was awesome, but a tree house… for me?
     
    Mac took me in his arms and held me tight. “I’ll build you a tree village if that would make you happy,” he whispered into my hair.
     
    “You’re not playing fair,” I accused.
     
    “Nope. Fair is for losers. I plan to win,” he said cockily as he placed his hand under my chin and raised my eyes to his. “How am I doing?”
     
    I closed my eyes. His serious expression was telling me a story I wasn’t ready to hear. Mac didn’t know me like I knew me. He deserved far better than