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He kept his eyes on hers. “You said that to me before, once before.”
Emotions swirling, she closed her eyes, then opened them again. And smiled. “I did. A thousand years ago. More or less.”
He remembered. She had stood facing him, flowers blooming at her feet. And she had undraped herself so that the pearly light had gleamed on her skin. She had offered herself without restrictions. He’d lost himself in her, flowers crushed and fragrant under their eager bodies.
He shook his head, and the image faded away. Memory or imagination, it no longer mattered. He knew only one vital thing. “This is now. This is you and me. Nothing else touches it. Whatever happened or didn’t happen before, this is for us.”
He scooped her into his arms. “That’s the way I want it,” he stated.
She stared at him, for she was spellbound now. She’d thought he would simply take her where they stood, seeking release, even oblivion. She’d tasted the sharp edge of his passion, felt the violence simmering under his skin. Instead, he carried her in his arms as if she were something he could cherish.
And when he laid her on the bed, stepped back to look at her, she felt a flush warm her cheeks. She managed a quick smile. “You’ll be needing your clothes off,” she said, tried to laugh and sit up, but he touched a hand to her shoulder.
“I’ll do it. Lie back, Bryna. I want to see you with your hair burning over the pillows, and the sun on your skin.” He would photograph her like this, he realized. Would be compelled to see if he could capture the magic of it, of her—long limbs, slender curves, eyes full of needs and nerves.
He watched her as he undressed, and his voice was quiet and serious when he spoke. “Are you afraid of me?”
“I wasn’t. I didn’t expect to be.” But her heart was fluttering like bird’s wings. “I suppose I am, yes. A little. Because it means…everything.”
He tossed his clothes toward the little chair, never taking his eyes from hers. “I don’t know what I believe, what I can accept. Except one thing.” He lowered himself to her, kept his mouth a whisper from hers. “This matters. Here. Now. You. It matters.”
“Love me.” She drew his mouth down to hers. “I’ve ached for you so long.”
It was slow and testing and sweet. Sighs and secrets, tastes and textures. He knew how her mouth would fit against his, knew the erotic slide of her tongue, the suggestive arch of her hips. He swallowed each catchy breath as he took his hands slowly, so slowly over her. Skimming curves, warming flesh. He filled his hands with her breasts, then his mouth, teasing her nipples with tongue and teeth until she groaned out his name like a prayer.
She took her hands over him, testing those muscles, tracing the small scars. Not a warrior’s body, but a man’s, she thought. And for now, hers. Her heart beat slow and thick as he used his mouth on her with a patience and concentration she knew now she’d been foolish not to expect.
Her heart beat thickly, the sun warmed her closed lids as pleasure swamped her. And love held so long in her heart bloomed like wild roses.
“Calin.”
His name shuddered through her lips when he cupped her. He watched her eyes fly open, saw the deep-blue irises go glassy and blind in speechless arousal. He sent her over the edge, viciously delighted when she cried out, shuddered, when her hands fell weakly.
His, was all he could think as he blazed a hot trail down her thigh. His. His.
Blood thundered in his head as he slipped inside her, as she moaned in pleasure, arched in welcome. Now her eyes were open, vivid blue and intense. Now her arms were around him, a circle of possession. She mated with him, their rhythm ancient and sure.
His strokes went deep, deeper, and his mouth crushed down on hers in breathless, mutual pleasure. She flew, as she had waited a lifetime to fly, as he emptied himself into her.
She held him close as the tension drained from his body. Stroked his hair as he rested his head between her breasts. “It’s new,” she said quietly. “Ours. I didn’t know it could be. Knowing so much, yet this I never knew.”
He shifted, lifted his head so that he could see her face. Her skin was soft, dewy, her eyes slumberous, her mouth rosy and swollen. “None of this should be possible.” He cupped a hand under her chin, turned her profile just slightly, already seeing it in frame, in just that light. Black and white. And he would title itAftermath. “I’m probably having a breakdown.”
Her laugh was a quick, silly snort. Carefree, careless. “Well, your engine seemed to be running fine, Calin, if you’re after asking me.”
His mouth twitched in response. “We’re pushing into the twenty-first century. I have a fax built into my car phone, a computer in my office that does everything but make my bed, and I’m supposed to believe I’ve just made love to a witch. A witch who makes fire burn out of thin air, calls up winds where there isn’t a breeze in sight.”
She combed her fingers through his hair as she’d dreamed of doing countless times. “Magic and technology aren’t mutually exclusive. It’s only that the second so rarely takes the first into account. Normality is only in the perspective.” She watched his eyes cloud at that. “You had visions, Calin. As a child you had them.”
“And I put away childish things.”
“Visions? Childish?” Her eyes snapped once, then she closed them on a sigh. “Why must you think so? A child’s mind and heart are perhaps more open to such matters. But you saw and you felt and you knew things that others didn’t. It was a gift you were given.”
“I’m no witch.”
“No, that only makes the gift more special. Calin—“
“No.” He sat up, shaking his head. “It’s too much. Let it be for a while. I don’t know what I feel.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, into his hair. “All I know is that here was where I had to be—and you’re who I had to be with. Let the rest alone for a while.”