Page 44 of Enchanted
***
He stretched over her, his head between her breasts, his long body lax. She kept her eyes closed, the better to hold on to that sensation of flying, of falling. Never before had she been so aware, so in tune with her own desires or with a man’s.
And never, she realized, had she been so willing, even eager, to surrender to both.
A small smile curved her lips as she lazily stroked his hair. In her mind she could see them together there. Wantonly sprawled, naked, damp and tangled.
She wondered how long it would be before he’d want to touch her again.
“I already do.” Liam’s voice was thick and low. His tongue skimmed carelessly over the side of her breast and made her shiver.
“Thoughts are private.”
She was so soft and warm in the afterglow of love, and that lazy sip of her flesh so delightful. He slid a hand up, molded her gently and shifted to nibble. “I’ve been inside your thoughts.” Her nipple hardened against a flick of his tongue and needs stirred again. “I’ve been inside you,a ghra.What’s the point of secrets now?”
“Thoughts are private,” she repeated, but the last word ended on a moan.
“As you wish.” He slipped out of her mind even as he slipped into her.
***
She must have slept. Though she remembered nothing but curling around him after that second, surprising slide into heaven. She stirred in bed, and found herself alone.
Sunny morning had become rainy afternoon. The sound of its steady patter, the golden haze that seemed to linger inside her body—both urged her to simply snuggle back and sleep again.
But curiosity was stronger. This was his bed, she thought, smiling foolishly. His room. Shoving at her tangled hair, she sat up and looked.
The bed was amazing. A lake of feathers covered in smooth, silky sheets, backed by a headboard of dark polished wood carved with stars and symbols and lettering she couldn’t make out. Idly she traced her fingers in the grooves.
He, too, had a fireplace facing the bed. It was fashioned of some kind of rich green stone and topped by a mantel of the same material. Gracing that were colorful crystals. She imagined their facets would catch the sun brilliantly. Fat white candles stood at one end in a triad.
There was a tall chair with its back carved in much the same way as the headboard. A deep blue throw woven with crescent moons was tossed over one of its arms.
The tables by the bed held lamps with bases of bronze mermaids. Charmed, she ran a finger along the curving tails.
He kept the furnishings spare, she noted, but he chose what he kept around him with care.
She rose, stretched, shook back her hair. The rain made her feel beautifully lazy. Instead of looking for her clothes, she walked to his closet hoping she would find a robe to bundle into.
She found a robe, and it made her fingers jerk on the door. A long white robe with wide sleeves.
He’d worn it the night before. In the stone dance. Under the moonlight. A witch’s robe.
Closing the door quickly, she spun around, looked around wildly for her clothes. Downstairs, she remembered with a jolt. He’d undressed her downstairs, and then …
What was she doing? What was she thinking of? Was this real or had she gone mad?
Had she just spent hours in bed with him?
And if it was real, if what she’d always thought was fantasy was suddenly truth, had he used it to lure her here?
For lack of anything else, she snatched up the throw, wrapped it around herself. She grasped the ends tight as the door of the bedroom opened.
He lifted a brow when he saw her, draped in the cloth his mother had woven for him when he’d turned twenty-one. She looked tumbled and lovely and outrageously desirable. He took a step toward her before he caught the glint of suspicion in her eyes.
Annoyed, he moved past her to set the tea tray he’d carried up on the bedside table. “What have you thought of that I haven’t explained?”
“How can you explain what should be impossible?”
