Page 28 of Enchanted
But when her hand came up to rest on his shoulder, when her mouth yielded so utterly under his, he feltthose darker needs clawing for freedom.
She couldn’t stop herself from giving, could hold nothing back against such tenderness. Even when the fingers on her face tightened, his mouth remained soft, easy, as if teaching hers what there was, what there could be.
Instinctively she soothed her hands over the tension of his shoulders and let herself sink into him.
He eased away before desire could outrace reason. When she only stared up at him with those exotic eyes blurred, those soft lips parted, he let her go.
“I guess it’s just, ah, chemistry.” Her heart was pounding in great hammering leaps.
“Chemistry,” he said, “can be dangerous.”
“You can’t make discoveries without some risks.” It should have shocked her, a comment like that coming out of her mouth, such an obvious invitation to continue, to finish. But it seemed natural, and right.
“In this case it’s best you know all the elements you’re dealing with. How much are you willing to find out? I wonder.”
“I came here to find out all sorts of things.” She let out a quiet breath. “I didn’t expect to find you.”
“No. You’re looking for Rowan first.” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, rocked back on his heels. “If I took you inside, took you here, for that matter, you’d find a part of her quickly enough. Is that what you want?”
“No.” It was another surprise to hear the denial, when every nerve in her body was sizzling. “Because then it would be as you said before. Simple. I’m not looking for simple.”
“Still, I’ll kiss you again, when I’ve a mind to.”
She angled her head, ignored the quick flutter in her belly. “I’ll let you kiss me again, whenI’vea mind to.”
He flashed a grin full of power and appreciation. “You’ve some of that Irishwoman in you, Rowan of the O’Mearas.”
“Maybe I do.” It pleased her enormously just then to think so. “Maybe I’ll have to find more.”
“That you will.” His grin faded. “When you do, I hope you know what to do about it. Pick a day next week and come over. Bring your sketchbook.”
“What for?”
“An idea I have brewing. We’ll see if it suits both of us.”
It couldn’t hurt, she mused. And it would give her some time to think about everything that had happened that morning. “All right, but one day’s the same as the next to me. My schedule’s open these days.”
“You’ll know which day when it comes.” He reached out to toy with the ends of her hair. “So will I.”
“And that, I suppose, is some kind of Irish mysticism.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” he murmured. “A good day to you, Cousin Rowan.”
He gave her hair an absent tug, then turned and walked away.
Well, she thought, as days went, it hadn’t been half bad so far.
***
And when he came to her again in dreams, she welcomed him. When his mind touched hers, seduced it, aroused it, she sighed, yielded, offered.
She shivered in pleasure, breathed his name and sensed somehow that he was as vulnerable as she. For just that moment, just that misty space of time, he was tangled with her, helpless not to give what she asked.
If only she knew the question.
Even when her body glowed, her mind soared, part of her fretted.
What should she ask him? What did she need to know?
