Page 62 of Enchanted
He wondered the same of himself, but couldn’t question it now, not now when she was so soft, so giving, when her lips were parting for his and her sigh of pleasure slipped into him like wine from a golden cup.
The sun dipped down behind the trees, edging them with fire, shooting color into the deepening sky. In the trees, the birds sang to those last lights.
“You’re beautiful.”
She wouldn’t have believed it. But here, now, she felt beautiful. She felt powerful. She felt loved. Just for today, she thought, and met his mouth with hers.
He drank from her, with thirst but without greed. Held her close but without desperation. Here, they both knew, time could spin out. Time could be taken.
Tongues met and tangled in a slow, intimate dance. Breath mixed. Murmurs melded.
She stroked her hands along the silk of his robe, then beneath to flesh. So warm. So smooth. His mouth onher throat, urging her to tip her head to give him more, and the light nip of teeth where her pulse beat. The erratic bump of it tempted him to slick his tongue over her skin, to fill himself with the flavor that was only her.
He parted her robe, lightly as air. When his hands, his mouth took possession of her, she arched gently.
Enjoy me, she seemed to say. Enchant me.
She sighed with him, moved with him, while the air swam with scent and the warm, soft wind caressed her naked skin. Sensations glimmered, tangled with delights both bright and dark. Lost in them, steeped in them, she rolled with him, rose languidly over him.
Her body was wand slim, white as marble in the delicate light. Her hair was lifted by the wind, her eyes full of secrets. Captivated, he ran his hands up her thighs, over her hips, her torso, closed them over her breasts.
And there her heart beat in the same hammer blows as his own.
“Rowan,” he murmured, as those secrets, as that power, glinted in her eyes. “You are all manner of witch.”
Her laugh was quick and triumphant. She leaned down, took his mouth hungrily with hers. Heat, sudden and brutal, slammed into him, leaped into his blood like the fire she’d made only hours before.
She felt it, too, the quick change, and that she had made it. That, she thought wildly, that was power. Riding on it, she took him into her, bowing back to revel in the shock of it, watching stars wheel in the black sky overhead.
His hands gripped her hips, his breath exploded from his lungs. Instinctively he struggled for control, but his already slippery grasp broke as she took him.
She took. Her hips moved like lightning, her body soared with a wild whip of energy that pushed him, raced ahead, dragged him with her.
She rocked herself to madness, then beyond, and still she drove him on. He said her name. She heard the sound break from him as his body plunged with hers. And she saw as they flew up, how his eyes flashed, then went dark and blind.
She all but wept with triumph as she grabbed hold and fell over with him.
***
He’d never allowed a woman to take control. Now, as Rowan lay sprawled over him, he realized he hadn’t been able to stop it. Not with her. There were a great many things he hadn’t been able to stop with her.
He turned his face into her hair and wondered what would come next. Only seconds later, when she spoke, he knew.
“I love you, Liam.” She said it quietly, with her lips over his heart. “I love you.”
He called the panic that sprang up inside him sense, responsibility. “Rowan—”
“You don’t have to love me back. I just can’t stand not telling you anymore. I was afraid to tell you before.” She shifted, looked at him. “I don’t think I’ll be afraid of anything ever again. So I love you, Liam.”
He sat up beside her. “You don’t know all there is to know, so you can’t know what you think or what you feel. Or what you’ll want,” he added on a huff of breath. “I have things to explain, things to show you. We’ll do better at my cabin.”
“All right.” She made her smile easy, even as a dread filled her heart that the magic of that day was over.
Chapter 12
What else could he tell her that would shock or surprise? Rowan asked herself. He’d told her he was a witch, then proved it and somehow made her accept it. He’d wiped out twenty-seven years of her simple beliefs about herself by telling her she was a witch as well. Had proved it. She had not only accepted it, but had embraced it.
How much more could there be?
