Page 71 of Tempt

“Oh, you’d better believe I can. If you don’t mind, I’ll stay like this for the rest of the night. It’s so cozy inside you. I might relax and read a book.”

Her mouth plummets open—and then she barks with laughter. One moment, she can predict to the consonant what he’ll say. The next, most decidedly not.

This is insane, leaving behind proof of their residence, but Malice’s indifference has as much to do with reason as it does with carelessness. What are the odds that anyone will turn up during Stellar Worship? What are the chances that somebody will visit the Archives, much less the Chamber’s restricted section?

Malice lugs her from the area, migrates across walkways, and hikes stairs, emerging into the Archives’ main foyer. Their nudity, plus the fact that he’s lodged inside her, causes Wonder’s chortles to double.

Her forehead drops onto his shoulder, her joints loosening, her body shaking with scandalized humor. This journey is ridiculous, comical, and rather sweet. She cannot believe they’re doing this, nor can she fathom what’s happened over the past few hours.

In between chuckles, the trip causes her to jostle against him, the friction inducing groans from Malice, whimpers from Wonder. They make it as far as a velvet couch amidst written retellings of dreams. They bounce onto the cushions, Wonder throwing her head back and tittering as he devours her neck. She scrapes through his curls, arching her back and shivering under his mouth until exhaustion forces them to slump. That’s when Malice withdraws from her, the intimate place that he’d filled suddenly empty.

She divests herself of the torn nightgown, letting it fall to the floor. Together, they twist, entangling their limbs like vines. She burrows her face into his throat, and his lips mash into the crown of her head, all of which inspires another sentimental gulp.

Safety. That’s what this feels like.

Something phenomenal has happened tonight. Many infinite somethings.

She dreads where this will lead in the morning. But for now, she sinks into the cushions, her toes pressing against his.

His breath stirs her hair as he mumbles, “Your mind is a kaleidoscope, spinning and tossing prisms all over this world. You can pull a dozen unanswerable questions from a single moment. You dance with dragonflies and dote on your friends, because you’re loyal and find happiness through others. Your eyes change tint depending on what book you’re reading. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Wonder exhales. It seems that he’s been measuring her more than she had thought. From the onset, just as she’d been compiling details about him, he’d been doing the same about her.

“What do you want more than anything?” he asks. “Don’t hold back, or I’ll know.”

“To forgive myself.” There’s no response as they let the answer simply exist. And then she whispers, “You?”

“To know myself.”

“And what are you most afraid of?”

Malice’s smooth chest rises and falls. “Same thing.”

Wonder nods. “Yes.”

The very same thing.

***

Her eyelids beat like wings. The space around her is a watercolor of imagery without borders, rippling at first and then finally solidifying into furniture.

Wonder pats the couch, skimming the pads of plump velvet. Then her eyelids flip open. Naked and on her back, she gapes at the ceiling and experiences a flutter of panic.

Had it been a dream?

The soreness between her legs testifies that it hadn’t been, prompting Wonder to cup her mouth. There’s additional evidence in the form of a thicker limb against hers, extending from the opposite side of the sofa. The other leg pitches like a roof, its masculine foot flattened on the cushion.

Wonder balances on her elbows and scans the bookcases, midday yawning through the windows. She notes her longbow and quiver propped against a bookshelf.

When had Malice collected the weapons?

He lounges across from her, his back resting on the couch’s arm. Absently, he sketches her toes while an open book rests in his free palm, his head tipped toward the pages. It’s a mouthwatering sight, that bare torso and those tousled waves. He narrates aloud, uttering in low tones to the assembly of juvenile dragonflies flitting around him.

Reading. He’s reading to them as if they understand.

Wonder mashes her lips together, stifling a grin as she gets another flashback of him play-chasing three dogs across a prairie hill, then rubbing the flank of his horse and feeding it an apple.

She cranes her neck toward the title.

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