Page 67 of The Fate Factor

Gripping his shoulders, I gently turn him away from me. The moment seems to slow, the outside edges curling in like I’m entering a tunnel. I drag my thumb along the shoulder seam to where the stitching has given way, leaving a small hole. I knew it would be there, and I clap my hand over my mouth, trying to control my breathing.

“Noe, what’s wrong?”

“We’re not on my porch,” I say stupidly. But maybe that part is still to come. It has to be, right? I know what Jamie told me about the first vision coming true—what happened with Becca, and how he got the money to open his bar like I predicted. But I haven’t seen one materialize for myself. Not until now.

This is the proof. It has to be. I asked for it, and I got it.

“Do you want to be on your porch?” he asks slowly, looking one odd exclamation away from calling a doctor.

“Yes,” I say. Then, “No.”

“What’s happening?” His eyes are wide, chest rising and falling quicker now.

“I have absolutely no idea,” I say honestly, but I can’t keep my hands off of him any longer. I reach for his face, my fingers trembling. “Jamie, I…”

“Christ, come here.” He tugs my wrist and I scramble onto his lap. My knees spread out wide to straddle his thighs, palms pressed flat to his chest. The scent of the rain on his skin surrounds me until I’m huffing it, my body drinking him in like liquor. When our eyes lock, I can practically feel my pupils dilate, like every part of me is stretching to take in as much of him as possible.

Jamie’s hands settle on my thighs, fingers flexing but staying put. “Noel,” he whispers. It’s a warning, but it’s also desperate,like fingers pressed into the edge of a cliff. “Tell me what we’re doing, baby.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I laugh outright.

He’s calling me baby. I absolutely do not hate it when he says it.

Jamie has never called me that in this realm.Gorgeous.Sweetheart.Noe. Never baby.

But he did in the vision at his bar.

My breath has all but evaporated from my lungs, and I wrap my hand around the back of his neck tugging until his mouth is on mine. Jamie doesn’t hesitate, cupping my face and kissing me back with a groan of relief. “Fuck, I was afraid you wouldn’t want to do this anymore.”

I answer with the quietest little moan, and he swallows it with another press, longer this time.

The kiss is sweet, almost chaste at first.At first.

He pulls away for the span of one glance, a quick dart of his eyes to mine to make sure I’m still with him, and then his mouth is back, hot and immediately searching. Our lips part at the same time, and when our tongues touch, Jamie makes a noise in the back of his throat of tortured restraint. It’s like a magic wand tapping my forehead, lighting up every nerve in my body.

I saw this. I knew this. I was wholly unprepared for this.

Within minutes of our lips meeting for the first time, we’re full-on making out on my couch, hands sliding and gripping each other’s clothes. We kiss like we haven’t seen each other in ages, like we’re star-crossed lovers, reunited after dimensions apart. I run my fingers through his hair, shivering at the silky feel of it. Jamie’s hands skim up and down my sides like he can’t decide where to stop.

“Is this okay?” he rasps.

“It’s perfect. So okay.” I’m glad he seems to have some semblance of control here, because I’ve been reduced to pureinstinct—to warm my skin with his skin, to press myself against him until pleasure rips up my spine.

My hips roll, and my head falls back with a gasp.

“Yes,” he says. “Do that.” He leans into the couch, watching, his lip curled in satisfaction.

I roll again, letting a little “Ah” escape, and it’s like it snaps something in him, a damn breaking. He brings his mouth to my throat, baring his teeth the way he did in the water. And just like then, it makes me feral. My hands slide beneath his shirt, and his breath catches so hard, I feel his skin jump beneath my fingers, an electric current between us, crackling.

“Take this off.” I tug at the hem of his shirt until he pulls it over his head.

I frown at the lingering bruise on his side, but his mouth is back on mine, eating it up, turning it back into a smile. I feel his reaction to each new boundary passed—the hot exhale of a curse word when he pushes my shirt up my belly. A flex of his hips when his thumb finds my breast. He pulls away, suddenly serious. I’m growing wilder by the second. I need more. I need closer. God, I want to claw my way inside of him.

“This is…” He trails off, and all I can say is, “I know.” Because I do. This is magic.

I wonder briefly if I should tell him now that I knew this would happen, that I’ve been waiting for it, but when his fingers notch into my shorts, words far simpler than that desert my brain.

“Can I see?”

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