Page 58 of The Potter

“And I knew just by looking at you up there, so humble, so awkward, that one day I would meet you, and you would become my potter, too.”

Fuck it. I kiss her.

Vance

“Vance,” Halle breathes against my lips. Her sapphire blue eyes are wide with shock as she pulls back, seeing her shirt fisted in my hand. I don’t remember grabbing her or pulling her onto my lap. I just remember Halle not being close enough.

And that was a problem.

Abigfucking problem.

Kissing Halle is a career-ending move. Yet, as I lap up the salty tears streaming down her face, I can’t force myself to care.

“You don’t need a potter.” I breathe along her wet skin, the smell more intoxicating than bourbon. “You’re already perfection.”

Halle makes a soft noise, her lips parting on an exhale. “I’m not perf—”

“Don’t,” I scold before pressing my lips back to hers. No matter what Halle thinks about her body, she’ll never see herself the way I do. “I don’t want to hear any more,” I admit.

I just want to indulge thisneedI have for Halle. This feeling of wholeness with her wrapped in my arms while her body relaxes under my hands as my fingers slip underneath her shirt, lingering at the clasp of her bra.

Unhooking it would be a mistake, and I’m already straddling the line of complications by kissing Ms. Belle. Taking this moment further would obliterate whatever minuscule amount of professionalism I have left.

But damn, she fits perfectly against me.

Her soft body molds to my rigid hardness, merging her curves with mine.

Maybe Halle was on to something with the wholepotterthing. Idowant to mold her, but only against my body, keeping her tucked to my chest—safe and untainted by the words of a fallen society. She might think her scars make her less than perfect, but I didn’t become a plastic surgeon to fit women and men into society’s mold. I specialized in reconstruction to give them the confidence they need to ignore the stigmas of how perfection and beauty are defined.

Perfection is unattainable.

Beauty is in words, actions, and life.

Halle might have found me to erase a part of her that she’d rather not remember, but I’ll rest easy knowing she’ll leave me with the knowledge that she’s no less beautiful than she was before.

Her fight is exquisite.

Her resilience is magnificent.

And her body is… beautifully flawed and perfectly crafted. Exactly what my dreams are made of.

“We need to go,” I finally mutter after several moments of lazily exploring Halle’s mouth, nuzzling her neck as her hair falls over my cheek, enveloping me in a false sense of security. But no matter how well we fit together, Halle is not here for anything more than a scar revision. It’d serve me well to remember that before this weekend gets out of hand.

“Okay.” Halle’s words are hesitant and unsure as she untangles her hands from my hair.

Her sheer vulnerability has me leaning forward, finding her lips once more, pressing gently until she moans, stealing my breath. My stomach tightens with a weird sensation that has me breaking contact. “I need to grab our things,” I slide her off my lap and help her to her feet. “Do you think you can board without me?”

Not that I won’t be right behind her, but I need to know she isn’t going to pass out when my hands are full of the fucking pamphlets Astor couldn’t remember to take with him.

Halle blinks several times as if she’s clearing something from her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

She nods and then turns around, grabbing her bag from the back seat. “I’ll see you on board, Dr. Potter.”

Dr. Fucking Potter.

Why does her saying my name like that make me want to grab her and toss her on the hood of the car and fuck her until she’s not even aware that we’re getting on a plane?

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