Witch Is The New Black (Paris, Texas Romance Book 3)

by Dakota Cassidy

  Bernie held up her right hand. “Promise. Speaking of powers, I have a date with a very important book of spells. Can I borrow the car, please?”

  “A date, huh? Freudian slip?” she asked with a wicked grin, handing Winnie the keys from the basket on the table by the front door.

  “I don’t know who Freudian is. Is he cute?”

  Winnie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me anything. But as far as I’m concerned, you’re a free agent. We just need Baba to sign off and then you can not date the tantalizing Ridge Donovan all you like.”

  Her insecurities began to surface. “I don’t think he’s interested in dating me. Calla says he’s going back to Dallas once the farm’s handled. Plus, we’ve spent many nights studying those dusty books and he hasn’t made a single pass at me.”

  “Have you made a pass at him?”

  Horror widened her eyes. “No! He’s my—”

  “Your boss. Yeah, yeah. Listen, did it ever occur to you that he’s not making passes because you’re so hung up on this order of things? And don’t tell me he’s not interested. His eyes gobble you right up whenever you’re not looking. Even when you wear that stab-to-my-eyeballs yellow velour tracksuit. Ridge is just following your cues, and allowing you your boundaries. Which makes him wildly hot and crazy patient. So here’s a thought, Rule Follower. Lighten up on all the regulations and eggshells and whatever else has you so hung up, and just relax, Bernie. Move forward. Go for what you want. Then don’t come home until morning. I’ll be here with Benny Junior tacked to my hip for support during your walk of shame.”

  Bernie took a deep, shaky breath before saying, “I’m going to give that some thought. Thanks, Winnie.”

  Winnie winked her fringed eye. “You bet, and by the way, you look gorgeous tonight. I love that color on you.” Then she waved a dismissive hand. “Now off! Go make goo-goo eyes at Ridge.”

  With a laugh, she headed out the door and toward the Pacer. As she climbed inside, she pressed the button to turn on her favorite French GPS shotgun.

  “Bonjour, Bernieee! I am so pleased to see you again! Where shall we go tonight?”

  “Ridge Donovan’s.” Her heart sped up simply saying his name.

  “Ooo la la, Bernieee! Love is in ze air, oui?”

  Smiling, she shook her head at just how out of the ordinary her life had become. Talking cats and devastation spells, Cabbage Patch dolls and disappearing tractors—who outside of this town would believe her if she told them what she’d encountered?

  But she was finding she didn’t really care, because these were the things that were becoming comfortable for her. The things she wanted in her life. She wanted them so much, she almost didn’t care that she’d come about them by way of the pokey.

  She almost didn’t care how she’d become a witch.

  She was just beginning to taste what living a real life was about, and she didn’t want to look back.

  So tonight was going to be about looking forward.

  Maybe even forward toward Ridge.

  As she pulled into his driveway, Bernie experienced a surge of pure confidence.

  Tonight would be the night she’d test the waters of the pool of Ridge.

  Test them by taking a chance and actually telling him how she was feeling.

  Tonight, she was going to go get her man.

  Grrrrr!

  Chapter 12

  When Ridge opened the door, his tall frame filling it up, some of her confidence waffled. If he wasn’t so damned good-looking, if his jeans didn’t fit him like a glove, if his buttoned-up shirt wasn’t so tapered against his lean waist and opened at his bronzed throat, she might not have wavered.

  If…

  But there he was, as smokin’ hot as always, making her knees tremble on the way up the front porch stairs, and she damn well resented it. No one was knocking her off her game tonight. Tonight, she was going to make a move.

  He wasn’t wearing his Stetson, and when he didn’t wear it, but instead pulled his thick chocolate hair back in a short ponytail, she wanted to drive her fingers through the silky locks.

  He smiled at her and waved her inside, pointing to the kitchen table, a small Formica dinette with the books they were studying, a bottle of red wine, and a cheese pizza sitting on top.

  She was a little in love with Ridge’s house—maybe because it reminded her of her parents’ old place. From the white-stained cabinets that met the ceiling and the copper farmers sink in the kitchen, to the worn, well-loved floors and the enormous bookcases in the living room, she loved it all. It smelled like apples and cinnamon, laughter and warmth—and Ridge.

  Each time she stepped through the screen door, she felt at peace.

  “So how’s my favorite witch tonight?”

  And there it was. The way they started every study date together. With a flirty joke.

  No more.

  Bernie crossed the room and set her purse on the coppery-granite countertop, putting her hand on her hip and jutting it forward just like she’d been advised by Flora, who was convinced she needed to gussy up her game with Ridge.

  She’d made a decision on the way over here, and she was sticking to it. Move this along or go off and lick her rejection wounds in a corner.

  “Am I your favorite witch?”

  Ridge cocked an eyebrow, his eyes glittering. “Who’s saucy tonight?” he asked with an amused chuckle, following her steps to stand in front of her.

  She shifted on her foot to ease the sharp pang in her hip. How did women stand like that? “I asked a question.”

  “I’m afraid to answer.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I was just doing the usual banter thing we do. We’ve been doing it since we began studying. Have the rules changed?”

  “So that means I’m not your favorite witch?”

  “Okay. Stop the roller coaster. I want off. Tell me what’s going on here.”

  “I’ve spent more of my life being cautious and afraid than not. I’ve walked on more eggshells than Miss Prissy and company out back could ever produce in a lifetime. And I don’t want to do that anymore.”

  Ridge’s eyes scanned her face, his mouth in a perfect O. “You don’t have to walk on eggshells with me.”

  “Good.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, pumping a fist in the air. “Good. Wanna start again?”

  “Nope.”

  Ridge ran a hand over his chin, his face clearly confused. “I feel like there’s some kind of speed trap here, and if I’m not careful, I’m gonna drive right into it and end up swallowed whole. How about you just explain what’s going on and I listen and shut up?”

  “No speed traps, just honesty.”

  “About the eggshells?”

  She shot a finger up in the air. “Yes! About the eggshells.”

  “So what about them?” he asked, his tone tentative.

  “I don’t want to walk on them anymore.”

  “Good. Go Team Bernie.”

  “Not the right answer.”

  He squinted, looking thoughtful. “What is the right answer?”

  “I want this to stop between us. Right now.”

  “That’s the answer?”

  “No, you’re not paying attention. That’s a request.”

  “And this has to do with eggshells how?”

  This was harder than it sounded. The more she tried to express her feelings, the less the words she spoke made any kind of sense. “I already told you, I don’t want to walk on them anymore.”

  “Right. I got that part. I just don’t know how it relates to me…us…me calling you my favorite witch.”

  She waved her hand in the direction of the table. “This.”

  Now Ridge scratched his head. “You mean you feel like you’re walking on eggshells when we study?”

  “Yes!”

  “Aw, that’s totally unfair. I’ve tried really hard to make you as comfortable as possible, Bernie. I’ve been a complete gentleman the en
tire time.”

  Winner-winner-chicken-dinner. Thank God he’d said it, because she clearly wasn’t getting it right. “That’s the crux of the problem.”

  “This is the most convoluted conversation I’ve ever had. In fact, it’s a lot like your math. How is my being a gentleman a problem?”

  “It interferes with my eggshells. Maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman. Did you ever consider that?” She winced. None of this was going the way it had in her head.

  “You mean with all the rules you have, like calling me Mr. Donovan? Color me crazy but I figured your boundaries were set in stone.”

  “Maybe you figured wrong,” she blurted out.

  “Meaning?”

  And then it all came tumbling out. “Meaning, you’ve kissed me on three occasions now, and not one single follow-up. You flirt, you joke, you tease, you save me from Violet like I need a hero. You devote all this time to helping me learn the art of the craft. Yet, I’ve left here every single night since we began studying un—un-debauched!”

  Un-debauched, Bernie? Oh hell and handbaskets.

  Ridge’s next words echoed her thoughts. “Un-debauched? Is that even a word?”

  “I don’t know. I just know it applies to us.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that you leave here un-debauched because you made the rules of the debauching?”

  “Well, now I’m making new ones.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Oh really. I can’t wait to hear them. Are they going to be as vague as this conversation is? Because—”

  Bernie reached him in two steps, catching the small heel of her sandal on the braided rug, tripping and falling into Ridge’s arms, where her lips landed directly on his.

  On damn purpose.

  She didn’t give him time to protest any longer. Instead, she busied herself with his mouth, sighing against his lips when Ridge wrapped his arms around her and hauled her close.

  And she let him, wrapping her legs around his waist as her sandals dropped to the floor and she clung to his neck. His mouth covered hers, taking control as he slipped his tongue between her lips and stroked.

  Heat, raw and achy, began to build in her belly. Her nipples turned to sharp points, pushing against her bra, driving into his chest.

  But then Ridge tore his delicious lips from hers. “Hold the phone.”

  She sucked in a ragged breath of air. “Why?”

  “Are we really doing this?”

  “You better believe we are.”

  “But you didn’t even want to call me by my first name—”

  “Ridge, Ridge, Ridge. Better now?” She began to reposition her mouth when he plucked her lower lip with two fingers.

  “Not so fast. What about all your parolee-slash-boss, people-talking-about-us rules? Even when you shifted into Violet, you had those rules firmly in place.”

  She was still processing the story Ridge had told her about her first night here and how she’d shifted into Violet. It was almost too much at this point.

  “Which means when I say it, I mean it—even when I’m Violet. But since I’ve been semi-cleared of all charges, that’s off the table now. And, FYI, I was only doing that to protect you, so no one would make fun of you for hooking up with an unsavory.”

  “So all this time—all this time while I’ve been fighting to keep my hands to myself, sticking to the plan you made very clear—you’ve been lusting for me?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Lusting?”

  “What else would you call it?”

  “Okay, fine. Yes. Yes, I’ve been lusting for you.” She found it wasn’t so hard to say after all. In fact, it felt a lot like freedom.

  “And you mean to tell me that because I didn’t kiss you again after you shifted into me, I was supposed to somehow know you might want to be a little more than just study partners? I mean, I all but took out a billboard on Main in town, and nothing. You gave me absolutely nothing. You’ve been here every night for what feels like forever, wearing all manner of lust-inducing clothing—”

  “It’s the yellow tracksuit, isn’t it? Knew I should have opted for Laura Ingalls prairie-chic to keep your wicked thoughts at bay.”

  “I can’t tell you the thoughts I’ve had about peeling that off you. It’s mighty potent workout wear. But that’s not the point. The point is, you’ve been all but intoxicating, yet you never once indicated you were even a little attracted to me since the barn.”

  “Is this what’s holding us up? My crappy reciprocal flirting skills?”

  “Yeah, this is what’s holding us up! And it has nothing to do with flirting. It has to do with the vibe you give off. I couldn’t figure you out. You sure didn’t seem to mind kissing me, but then you’d avoid the hell out of me right after—for days. How, I ask you, how is a man supposed to know the signs when your signs are written in Chinese?”

  Bernie burst out laughing, letting her head fall back on her shoulders as she remembered what Winnie had said to her tonight. “That’s very fair. I’m sorry, but if you’re interested, I took an English class and here’s the score. I don’t want to study witchcraft with you. I lust for you. Let’s get it on.”

  Now Ridge laughed, the rumble of his chest sending chills along her arms. “Then from here on out, just say it. Don’t beat around the bush with me, because you could drive a man out of his damn mind.”

  “From here on out?”

  “Were you thinking this would be a one-time thing? Because if so, I’ll have to respectfully decline and just have raunchy dreams about you to tide me over until I can change your mind.”

  Her pulse throbbed in her eardrums and her heart melted in her chest. “But I thought you were going back to Dallas? Calla said you were when I was you.”

  “Hey, I have a good idea. Let’s not talk about any of that right now. Let’s just not talk at all. We can do that afterward. I’ve waited a long time for this, and we’ve done a lot of talking up to this point.”

  “So game on?” she asked with a cheeky grin.

  “Game on, lady. Game so on.”

  Ridge recaptured her mouth, driving his tongue between her lips, inhaling her soft moan. His mouth was smooth, hot, and demanding she respond.

  Her fingers found his hair, threading into it, gripping the strands of silk as their bodies melded together.

  Ridge walked backward with her legs still securely around his waist, the bulge of his rigid shaft pressing into the vee of her thighs. He made his way down a long hall and ducked into a room, kneading her ass as they went.

  He set her on the bed, only the dim glow of a nightlight casting shadows in the room, and then he kneeled in front of her, taking her breath away.

  Driving her shirt upward and over her head, Ridge didn’t waste any time unsnapping her bra and pushing it off. He moaned when he exposed her breasts, cupping them, circling her nipples with exquisitely measured movements until they tightened almost unbearably.

  A hot wave of need pooled in her belly, and when Ridge leaned forward to brush his mouth over her rigid nipple, she thought she might pass out.

  He splayed a hand over her chest to settle her on her back, his dark skin against her paler flesh mesmerizing her.

  Bernie’s back met the bed, the cool of the puffy comforter a stark contrast to her heated flesh. Shivers ran along her arms as Ridge slipped her jeans and panties off, leaving her open to his gaze.

  He trailed kisses along her thighs, over her rib cage, flitting his tongue into her belly button before he slipped along her length and found her mouth again. “You’re beautiful, Bernie. So beautiful. So damn soft and hot,” he whispered thick and low as he parted her legs and thrust a finger inside her.

  Bernie’s hips bucked upward, the stab of pleasure so intense, she almost came, but Ridge eased his finger back out of her, making her whimper.

  Lifting off the bed, he began to undress, giving her a glimpse of how incredibly beautiful he was. His chest was wide, bronzed from his work on the farm, with
just a light sprinkle of hair between his well-defined pecs.

  A lean waist led to equally lean hips and a rigid man-v of hipbones. Thick thighs, doused with that same hair, bulged and flexed when he drew his jeans over them.

  And then he was as deliciously naked as she, his cock driving upward, long and solid. Bernie’s heart pounded simply looking at him. He was rugged and manly and she wanted all of him right now.

  Ridge spread her thighs apart, gazing down into her eyes before kneeling again, dipping his head low, his hair rubbing against her sensitive skin.

  The first swipe of his tongue against her clit made her see colors behind her eyes, flashing neon-bright.

  She rose up on her elbows and thrust her hips upward toward more pleasure, but found she couldn’t hold herself up. She fell back on the bed and her fingers found his hair again, gripping it at either side of his head as he teased her clit, stroking it, flattening his tongue against the throbbing nub, making her writhe. Tear stung her eyes, his mouth feeling so perfect against her flesh until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  Threads of longing tickled her belly, turning into a hot wave of desperate, agonizing need. Bernie’s thighs clenched, her hands fell from Ridge’s hair to the comforter, where she grabbed fistfuls of the material and drove her hips upward.

  The rush of white-hot heat came without warning, crashing into her, making her shake as Ridge continued to stroke her with the rasp of his tongue until she came with a small scream. Her body stiffened, tight as an arrow poised on a bow, going rigid, pulling every muscle in her body until it let go, letting her down with a last tremor of climax.

  His large hands soothed her heated flesh, smoothing away the last of the tension as he eased upward along her body until they were face-to-face once again.

  Ridge’s eyes met hers when she cradled his jaw with her hands and captured his mouth once more, tasting herself on his lips, groaning at how quickly he reignited her desire for him.