Page 187 of A Tribute of Fire

Instead of answering my question, he asked his own: “If I asked you to stay with me tonight, would you even consider it? Allow me to have one night with you?”

The desire in his voice, the questions he’d asked, seared a path down my spine, exploding at the base and then spreading out to my limbs. I couldn’t respond.

Because I was afraid I would say yes.

He gave me a sheepish grin and rubbed the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. I would not ask you to break your vow.”

Jason might not have asked, but there was a distinct possibility that I would offer.

“I’m not sure you’re worth getting buried alive for,” I said, hoping a joke might break the tension building between us.

“Probably not,” he agreed. “Better to refuse.”

I had a sudden flash from my last dream with him.When the time comes, say yes.

Was this what that dream had meant? Had I somehow known that this moment was coming and prepared myself to accept him? To accept this?

Then, as if our souls were connected and he could hear my thoughts like I’d spoken them out loud, he said, “I dream of you. Almost every night.”

His voice was so soft that at first I thought I’d misunderstood him. “You do?”

“Yes. And you always turn me away. It is the most frustrating thing I’ve ever experienced.”

At that I had to smile. “I’m guessing that most women don’t tell you no.”

He grinned back but the look in his eyes sent a shiver across my skin. “Not usually.”

A bit of my lust receded at the reminder that I was just one of many. “Maybe it’s good for you to be denied.”

He came closer and my breath caught at his nearness. “It is not good for me. Do you know that I wake up every night with your name on my lips, sweating, gasping, reaching for you, wanting you so badly that even my teeth ache?”

My knees threatened to buckle underneath me, that image searing itself into my brain.

The muscles in his throat were working and he put his hands gently on my bare shoulders. I gasped at the contact and then I noticed that his hands were shaking, unsteady.

That had never happened before. He always seemed so sure of himself, so confident.

Was he afraid? Or was it an indication that his declaration was true, that he wanted me so badly that he shook just by being close to me?

“Why can’t I stay away from you?” I whispered the words.

He repeated my question back to me. “Why can’t I stay away from you?”

“I asked you first.”

Jason leaned in to nuzzle my hair with his nose. “I don’t know the answer.”

And for the first time in my life, I was fine with not having a response. It was enough to be here with him.

His lips took over where his nose had been and he began to kiss the side of my head, moving his way toward my face. Everywhere he touched me, with his hands or his mouth, was hot and feverish. I wound my fingers into his tunic, gripping with all my might so that I could stay upright.

“I don’t know if this is a dream or if it’s real,” I said breathlessly.

“It’s very real,” he murmured against my cheek. “In your dreams, what do I do?”

His hands had traveled down my arms and came to rest on my waist. He brought me closer to him, fitting us together.

It was difficult to speak. “You make me feel lighter than air.”

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