“How long?” she demanded. “How long before you’re ready to leave me like you left the others? Right now you’re caught up in the fact that I’m home after years of being a mystery, but the novelty will wear off, and I’ll be just like all the other witches who couldn’t hold you down.”
He tilted his head, glancing between her aura and eyes. “Who did you talk to yesterday?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she countered. “Of course you’ve had relationships, apparently quite a few, but none of them were good enough to keep your interest. Maybe Caitlyn can handle your rejection, but I don’t know if I can. I know that sounds desperate and clingy, and I hate that, too. But that’s what you do to me, and it’s terrifying—to have no control over my fate and my heart. How am I supposed to relax knowing the moment you lose interest, you’ll move on while I crumble?”
This was a problem he could fix. If she’d only give him a chance. “You’re nothing like the other women I’ve been with, Layla. The feelings I have for you can’t be compared to the passing interest I gave them. When I first saw you, every relationship I’ve had suddenly seemed trivial, like their only purpose was to prepare me for you. You’re perfect from your head to your toes, your physical beauty surpassed only by your lovely heart, and the package deal will never lose my interest.”
“Quin,” she breathed, pout trembling.
“Let me finish,” he insisted, touching his forehead to hers. “I’m wholeheartedly yours. As long as I’m the man you want, I’m here to stay. That’s one promise I’m not afraid to make, even after the colossal mess I made out of the last one. Nothing else out there calls my name louder or sweeter than you, and nothing will keep me from answering. It’s the call I’ve been waiting for. It’s my peace and my purpose, and now that I’ve heard it, I’d be lost without it.”
She didn’t respond. She just stared at him through salty moisture as her chest stuttered.
Quin wiped away a tear then slid his fingertips to her lips, desperate to keep them within reach. “Please, Layla. Don’t let this slip away from us. It feels as natural as breathing and I need the air.”
Her pout was out of control, and a fresh batch of waterworks had breached her lids. “I need it, too,” she squeaked.
“Then let me stay,” he whispered.
She squeezed her eyes shut, quietly sobbing as she grasped his jaw and gave a nod. “Stay.”
A whoosh of air deflated his lungs. Then he kissed her so deeply he had to employ magic to keep her on her feet. “I won’t make you regret this,” he vowed, kissing again and again, beyond thankful she was letting him.
Her arms encircled his neck, and he swept her off her feet, blindly carrying her to the couch. Their lips stayed melded together as he sat. Then he leaned against the arm rest and took her face in both hands.
He wouldn’t move until she was ready. He’d lie there all night and straight through the following day if she wanted. He hadn’t realized exactly how much the separation had affected him physically until the weight and pain lifted, leaving him lighter than air and thoroughly soothed.
Desperate to reclaim the security of Quin’s embrace, Layla broke away from his kiss and curled up on his chest, nuzzling warm pecs. He wrapped her in a hug, and her lungs yanked in air as her insides flipped and untangled.
“Oh god,” she gasped. “I missed this so much. I never want to feel that empty again.”
His hug tightened as he buried his face in her hair. “I’ll never make you. This is my heaven, and I won’t risk it again.”
Only part of her believed him. The other part remained terrified he’d eventually leave her—a chance she was willing to take if that was the price of admission to his heaven.
Already missing his face, she uncurled and stretched, kissing her way to his mouth. His palms slid to her butt, squeezing and pulling her closer, and her temperature spiked as sensitive areas pulsed.
All too soon his hands returned to her hair, and she murmured an objection, her abandoned backside shifting as she nuzzled a leg between his thighs. He groaned, tensing as he untangled his fingers from her hair. Then he clutched her hips and held them still.
She let his lip slip away, pouting as she found his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but now’s not the time to test my restraint.”
She wiggled from his hands and kissed his neck, keeping the rest of her body still, but when she thought she had him fooled into thinking she’d be good, she moved against him, cuddling his groin with her thigh.
She felt him thicken, but he quickly grasped her hips and pushed them away. “Not now,” he refused.
She huffed into the base of his throat then curled up on his chest, frustrated her attempt to seduce him had failed, and embarrassed she’d tried.
He released her hips and stroked her hair. “It’s not like I don’t want to.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. This is perfect.”
His heart pounded against her lips, its swift beats fluttering the tip of her tongue.
“Come on, Layla Love,” he coaxed. “I want to fix it, but I can’t until I know what’s going on.”
She sighed and turned her head, letting his heart hit her cheek. “It bugs me that you have all the power and I have none.”
His pulse mellowed as his tension eased. “You do have the power,” he disagreed. “I hold very little.”
“Yeah right,” she smirked.
“It’s true,” he insisted. “If I held the power, I would have taken you to bed the night I met you. It’s the power you hold that keeps me from misbehaving.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Quin.”
“Sure it does. When you press yourself on me, it gets me more worked up than I’d ever been before you came along. I can’t imagine how wonderful it will feel to take things where I want them to go, and I refuse to mess it up. I won’t risk belittling what could be the most amazing moment of my life by giving into sudden urges.”
And with that, he’d managed to ease her insecurities. “When you put it that way, maybe I do have a little power.”
“I’m telling you, Layla, you have it all.”
“Hmm... Since I have all the power, answer a question for me.”
“Shoot.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“You,” he answered, brushing his thumb across the tip of her nose. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
“What if I said I’m ready now?”
He laughed, and she scowled as she lifted her head from his rumbling chest.
“What?” she demanded.
“You’re not ready,” he replied.
“How would you know?” she challenged.
He stifled another laugh as he raised an eyebrow. “Tell you what—stand up, strip naked, then stand there for more than five minutes while I stare at you from every angle. If you can do that, I’ll believe you’re ready.”
Her scowled deepened as her face burned. “That’s not fair.”
“Yes it is,” he disagreed. “Some men might take a woman before getting familiar with her body, but that’s not me. As long as you’re uncomfortable, I’ll be uncomfortable, and I don’t want it to be that way.”
“Oh,” she breathed, dropping her forehead to his chest.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her up his body. He rested her cheek on his shoulder. Then he tucked his chin in and found her eyes. “Tell me why that bothers you.”
“Because I don’t know how to fix it.”
“You don’t have to fix it. It will fix itself. And I don’t mind waiting. I enjoy every minute I’m with you. There’s no reason to crash land in a rush to reach our destination.”
“You’ll get bored,” she whispered, hating the thought so much it brought tears to her eyes.
“Nuh-uh,” he countered, touching his forehead to hers. “Never. I would live a celibate life before giving you up.”
She wrink
led her nose as she ran a hand down his hard stomach. “A celibate life sounds like an awful waste of such a fine man.”
“It sounds like more than I deserve,” he returned, pulling his shirt up.
She beamed as she flexed her fingers over his abs, and he smiled as he touched her curved lips. “We’ll get there,” he assured, “sooner than you think.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said, reaching for a dimple, but he grabbed her hand, narrowing his eyes on her chewed fingernails.
“What’s this?”
She shrugged and tried to pull her hand away, but he held firm.
“You made yourself bleed,” he disapproved.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she returned.
He closed his eyes and sighed. Then he soberly met her stare. “Don’t do this to yourself again. Next time you want to make someone bleed, come see me.”
She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “What are you, the fingernail police?”
“No, but I don’t want you reducing your beautiful nails to bloody stumps, so don’t. If you need something to bite, I’ll give you mine.”
“Gross,” she objected.
“I’ll clean them first,” he offered, turning his attention to her nails. “May I smooth them for you?”
“Do you carry a file in your pocket?”
He smiled and winked. “Don’t need one.”
“Oh yeah,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “Go for it.”
“May I make them longer?”
“Can you?”
“You’re funny,” he teased.
“I’m new,” she returned, wrinkling her nose.
“You’re perfect,” he countered. “So may I fix your nails?”
“Go for it, but don’t go crazy. Just put them back the way they were.”
“That’s exactly where I want them to be,” he agreed.
Layla raptly watched him repair her nails with soft kisses, but when he reached for her other hand with a scorched palm, she dropped her ashamed gaze. “Magicians can heal their own bodies, right?”
“Sure, but don’t try to heal yourself yet. It’s complicated magic and a lot could go wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
He completed his task. Then he kept her pinky pressed to his bottom lip as he explained. “Well, it’s one thing to heal skin lacerations, muscle strain and fingernails, but when it comes to repairing internal injuries we need a thorough understanding of the human anatomy. If we don’t know what purpose the body part serves or how it’s supposed to be positioned, we can’t make it right. I’m sure you can imagine the consequences of repairing a torn ligament when you don’t know where it should be attached.”
“I see. Do you know all that stuff?”
“I have general knowledge of the subject, but no, I’m not what magicians would call a healer. Bones and muscles I can handle, but vital organs would scare the hell out of me.”
Layla bit her lip. Then her cheeks warmed as she pulled his burnt palm from her wrist. “So why haven’t you healed this?”
A long moment of silence passed. Then he turned his palm into hers. “Would you like to heal it for me?”
Layla looked up, catching sight of his concerned aura before finding his tender gaze. “I don’t know how,” she squeaked, fighting remorseful tears.
“Don’t cry,” he insisted. “It’s unnecessary.”
“I’m so sorry, Quin. I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m so sorry I did.”
“I deserved it.”
“No you didn’t.”
He raised his hand and flexed his fingers. “Yes I did, and I’m glad you did it. Why do you think it’s still there?”
She scowled at the wound. “You intend to keep it?”
“No, but I would have. Consider it a token of my transgression. Now that I have you back, I’m more than ready to get rid of it.”
“You should have gotten rid of it right away,” she scolded. “And if you want to get technical about it, it’s more like a token of my transgression, a reminder of the horrible thing I did.”
He smiled as he smoothed her forehead. “I can see I’m not going to get you to agree with me, so how about we make this issue go away?”
“Please do.”
She started to climb off him, but he pulled her back down. “Where are you going, Layla Love?”
“I’m moving so you can heal your hand.”
“I don’t like that idea. How about you stay put while I heal my hand?”
“Oh. I thought you’d need your other hand.”
“Nope.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Chop, chop.”
He laughed as he looked at the burns, and less than a minute later he was back to normal. He flexed and wiggled his fingers. Then he grinned as he slipped his palm under her shirt.
“Mmm...” he murmured. “I don’t know about you, but I’m all better.”
His fingers drifted from her back to her side, tickling and making her giggle. Then his caress softened, spreading goose bumps from her head to her toes.
Warmth flooded her veins as desire flared, and her cheeks caught fire. It was one thing to be aroused by his deep kisses and adventurous hands, but to be turned on by something as simple as his fingers on her side made her feel foolish. And he was looking right at her, aware of her reaction. His lips curved toward dimples, like he was humored and indulged; and his halcyon eyes were glued to hers, portraying his pleasure.
She slid her fingers to his face, smiling as she traced faint laugh lines. “I’m much happier when you’re here, Quin.”
“Good, because I’ve been miserable without you. It was twenty-three hours of unsettling turmoil, the worst of my life, and I have no intention of repeating them.”
“I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
“Nuh-uh,” he countered, laying his thumb on her lips. “This one rests on my shoulders, so I get to make amends, not you.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked, propping herself up on his chest. “How will you do that?”
“I’ll show you, but for now, consider me your genie. Your wish is my command.”
“Anything?” she asked, flashing a grin.
He raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Within certain lines that have already been drawn, yes.”
She glanced from his eyes to his lips, recalling how flexible his lines were, and her heart quickened, yearning for the one wish he wouldn’t give her. But she was done throwing her blushing body at him. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Quin.”
He laughed and grasped at the air around her. “Hard to do when your aura looks like that.”
Without meaning to, she sucked the haze in, and her muscles tensed as she averted her gaze.
Quin frowned, his heart squeezing as it jumped toward the disappearing aura. “Please don’t do that,” he whispered.
“I didn’t mean to,” she mumbled, but she didn’t release the mist.
Quin ran his fingers into her hair, gathering it in one hand so he could see her face. “I know you didn’t mean to, and it breaks my heart your natural reaction is to hide from me. You’re really good at it now, and I know that’s probably a dream come true for you, but it makes me sad. Concealment spells can be useful, but you shouldn’t hide your soul from the people who care about you.”
She released the emotions, filling the atmosphere with a radiant rainbow. “It does feel better when it’s out,” she confessed. “When it’s not embarrassing me.”
Quin examined her colors, seeing how much he needed to repair and how much she feared the situations she faced. But there was also an abundance of wonderful things. She was more hopeful than she liked to admit, and she held an immense amount of love for the people she’d just met while maintaining an ardent affection for the loved ones from her past, both living and dead. But all that intense fear, enduring hope and powerful love was a drop in the colorful ocean that was her aura, a mere fraction of what her soul was made of, a breathtaking piece of the whole
beautiful package. Her capacity to feel was astonishing. She held so many emotions, it was no wonder they ran away with her.
He looked from her bright aura to her emerald gaze. “You’re a lovely person, Layla. I wish I could show you your aura. I think you’d be impressed.”
“I’d rather look at yours. It’s my favorite. Children’s auras, too. There’s something very peaceful about them.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “they’re hypnotic in some ways, exhilarating in others. Sometimes it’s hard to look away.”
“That’s a perfect description,” she approved. Then she grinned and tapped his chin. “Weren’t you about to give me anything I want?”
He took her pinched cheeks in his palms, reveling in her enthusiasm. “Yes I was.”
“Good, because I want you to hand me a cup of coffee.”
“What?” he laughed. “I grant you unlimited wishes and you ask for coffee?”
“Not just coffee. I want you...” She patted his chest. “...to hand me a cup of coffee.”
“You want me to hand you a cup of coffee.”
“Yes.”
His smile faded as he searched her eyes. “May I ask why?”
“It’s kind of dumb.”
“I doubt it.”
She looked down and fidgeted with his shirt. “Well, while I did appreciate the coffee this morning, it left a bitter taste in my mouth.”
“Ahh,” he whispered, catching the underlying meaning. “Guess I owe you a cup of coffee.”
“I wouldn’t say you owe me, but I’d appreciate a replacement cup.”
“I’ll get your coffee,” he agreed, urging her gaze back to his, “on one condition.”
She gasped as her eyebrows shot up. “You’re putting conditions on coffee? There should be a rule against that.” She searched the circular room. “Yes, I’ll have to post a sign. No Holding the Coffee Hostage!”
He laughed as he nuzzled her neck. “Fiend.”
“Better state your condition,” she warned. “If you don’t tell me by the time I finish my sign, you’re out of luck.”
“You have to come up with something harder,” he stipulated. “That’s my condition, because getting coffee isn’t my idea of atonement.”
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