The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Page count: 13

There was no hesitation between them. Hermione's hand tangled in his hair, fingers tugging him closer as his arm locked around her waist, pulling her against him. She let out a quiet sigh when he nipped at her bottom lip, her mouth opening for him in a heartbeat. Their tongues met in a slow, rhythmic dance, the heat between them building with every kiss.

It was like fire had been set loose inside her, a spark that flared brighter and hotter, consuming everything in its path. She couldn't help it—he was dangerous, magnetic, and everything about him was impossible to resist. From his bad-boy grin, to that awful charm of his, to his swagger that always seemed a little too cocky—Dean Winchester was like a force of nature. Even the smell of him, like gunpowder, motor oil, and soap, hit her differently now—so raw, so unlike the clean, fresh scent she used to love.

Her breath caught when his hand slid to her hip, fingertips trailing down to her arse, giving it a playful squeeze before hooking her leg over his. They pressed closer together, the feel of him hard against her making her pulse race. She didn't even think before tugging on his hair, a sharp growl escaping him as he shifted on top of her.

Hermione took control, rolling them both onto their backs, pulling him so he was cradled in her thighs, her legs wrapped around him, keeping him in place. Dean's breath hitched, the heat between them palpable. He dipped his head to her neck, his lips tracing her skin, teeth grazing her pulse point, sending shivers all the way to her core. His hands slid beneath her shirt, the heat of his touch against her sides sending electricity through her body. She gripped his shoulders, tracing the muscles of his back, the sensation of his skin under her fingertips making her head spin.

When she felt him against her, she gasped, the pressure making everything inside her tighten. But before he could go any further, Hermione stopped him, breathless and flushed.

"No, we can't," she murmured, her voice shaky.

Dean pulled back, eyes dark with desire, his lips just a whisper from hers. "Sure, we can. We're both adults, Hermione," he said, his voice low and teasing, the smirk on his lips only deepening.

"No," she repeated firmly, shaking her head, though she couldn't help but feel the heat in her cheeks. "We can't."

His brows furrowed in confusion, then amusement. "Why not?" His voice was almost playful, but there was a flicker of something else in his gaze.

She gestured toward Sam, still fast asleep in the front seat. "I'm not doing this with your brother less than a foot away from us." Her voice was a mix of frustration and embarrassment as she pointed to where Sam was snoring softly. "I don't know about you, but I'm not having that kind of weird, awkward moment with him."

Dean's smirk grew, the edges of it almost smug as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're right. Definitely weird. But..." His hand slid down to her waist, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her jeans. "You're telling me I'm supposed to just lay here and not do anything when you look like that?"

Hermione felt her pulse quicken. "Not just that," she said, her voice quiet but firm, "I have... some traits that tend to show up during sex. They're not exactly fun to deal with, and I'd rather not have Sam waking up to hear about them."

Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not put off. "What traits?" he asked, the amusement still dancing in his eyes.

She blushed, looking anywhere but at him. "Something happened to me when I was thirteen. It's... personal. Let's just say they're more noticeable during sex."

Dean let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "You're making me more curious, you know that, right?"

Hermione groaned, trying to push him off her lightly. "It's not something I want to explain. I don't want Sam waking up and hearing us."