Chapter 11 #2
His laughter drifted through my thoughts. I smiled, stripped off, and stepped into the shower, luxuriating for far too long in the massaging streams of hot water. By the time I stepped out, my skin was prune-like, but I definitely felt more relaxed.
After roughly drying my hair, I tugged on my T-shirt and knickers and padded across to the boat-sized bed and pulled back the summer comforter.
The slight creases in the pillow closest to the bathroom suggested that was the side René slept on, so I slipped into the silken sheets on the opposite side and tugged the comforter up again.
And in that moment, realized that instinct had indeed been right.
I had ended up in his bed before the mission was over... just not in the way I had imagined.
I woke to the delicious scent of smoky wood and warm spices filling my nostrils, and the whisper of breathing that matched my own. A smile tugged lightly at my lips, but for several minutes, I didn’t move or otherwise acknowledge his presence. I simply enjoyed the warmth of his nearness.
I finally opened my eyes and met the deep sapphire of his. He lay on his right side, facing me, the comforter loosely draped over his hips, barely covering the black elastic of his boxers. And they barely contained the force of his thick erection.
Ginny had been right. It was damn impressive.
The urge to slip closer, to reach out and caress what silk barely restrained was so strong my fingers twitched. I swallowed heavily, suddenly thankful for the boat-size bed, and said the obvious. “You’re awake.”
“And you’re in my bed.”
“Well, you do only have two bedrooms, and I refuse to share with Ginny. She dream hunts, and it can get bloody painful.”
He laughed. “I had no idea hawk shifters had that affliction.”
“Many don’t. She’s special.”
“She is indeed.” It was dryly said. “But if said affliction is the reason you’re here, I will not complain.”
“Have you ever complained when you found a woman in your bed?”
“Once, a long time ago. She’d apparently decided I was the right man to take her virginity.”
“And did you?”
“She was barely eighteen.”
“Eighteen is legal.”
“Yes, but I prefer my women with a little more experience.”
“Well, that’s me off your shopping list then.”
He raised his eyebrows. While he hadn’t appeared to move, he suddenly seemed a whole lot closer. Not quite within touching distance but not that far from it now, either.
“You were married for how many years—Ten? Fifteen?—and have a son. You probably had more sex than me over that period.”
I laughed. “Not according to the gossip mags.”
His luscious lips curved into a smile, but the stars in his eyes flashed, hinting at frustration. “You should never totally believe such magazines. They embellish the truth in order to sell more copies.”
Embellish meant some of it was true, but I let it slide. “What happened to the demons?”
“I dealt with them.”
“Dealt as in sent them back, or dealt as in made another arrangement?”
“The last thing I need is to be making any sort of deal with a demon. That is a dangerous path to step onto for one such as me.”
“Because of who your dad was?”
He was closer again, and though I saw the movement this time, it was a blink and miss it moment. The man was a smooth operator in more ways than one.
“Yes.”
“You’re not your father, though.”
“No, but his Ki does run through my blood. I cannot risk bringing it forth.”
I frowned. “Your father’s Ki can’t run through your blood, because it’s the body’s soul and—”
Something flickered through his eyes. Wariness, perhaps. “Obviously, I meant the darkness—madness?—that likely runs through our line, and I do not wish in any way to invite that inheritance into my own life. It’s why I will never have kids.”
While that was a perfectly logical and believable statement, I had the strongest feeling that he had indeed meant Ki. Which was utterly impossible, of course, because two souls could not live in one body—it was an indisputable fact, one proven repeatedly throughout history.
So, if not his Ki, per se, what then? His magic? Or something else? Was his father really even dead? Perhaps before I dated the man—or indeed even had sex with him—I needed to do a deeper dive into his past.
“Is that why your life force is so very locked down?” I asked. “Because you’re afraid that the slightest loosening of restraints would cause a similar descent as your father?”
He slid closer again, coming within touching distance. And I wanted to touch. Very, very badly.
“It is not the descent into darkness I fear, because I walk those shores every day.”
“Then why are you locked down so tightly?”
“Because while my father is dead, his evil still haunts me—”
“Literally?” I cut in.
“No. But enough of him.” He reached out and gently brushed the hair away from my cheek. “May I kiss you, Hanna Kang?”
Hell yes, please do. I softly cleared my throat and said, “We are not dating, and this mission is not over.”
“Consider it a taster for what is to come when we do date.”
I arched an eyebrow and did my best to ignore hormones that were absolutely begging me to just get on with it. “I feel obliged to warn you I have not dated or even properly kissed a man for a very long time, and I’m totally out of practice.”
“Kissing is like bike riding. Once you get on with it, it comes back naturally.”
My smile grew. “I haven’t ridden a bike for a very long time either.”
Shock ran through his expression, but his eyes danced. “What is wrong with the men in Canberra?”
“I think it would be fairer to ask, ‘What is wrong with me?’”
“Nothing is wrong with you. You are perfect.”
“A worthless opinion, given you know next to nothing about me.”
“Which is why we must date, so I can solve the puzzle you present.”
I arched an eyebrow. “What about the puzzle you present?”
“I am what you see; nothing more, nothing less.”
“Says the man who has his life force so tightly locked down he appears as barren as a dead man.”
He studied me for a moment, the stars in his eyes fading a little even if the desire remained bright. “Are you scared of me, Hanna Kang?”
“No.” Yes. But I was even more afraid of what lay inside of me.
This man might currently be an island of peace, but would he remain so once we got intimate?
Desire and the inner darkness were rarely compliant with each other, especially when the former was so fierce that control slipped.
Sex with Owen had been good—he’d always been a generous and giving lover—but I’d never once felt the overwhelming tide of desire that this man raised.
“Do you wish me to leave this bed and not pursue a relationship with you?” he asked softly.
“It’s a relationship now?” I drawled, thankful the inner turmoil wasn’t showing. “Not just a date or two?”
“An attraction this strong deserves full exploration, but it is impolite to answer the question with another question.”
A smile tugged at my lips. “No, I do not want you to leave the bed. Yes, I do want you to kiss me. No, I do not want sex—well, I do, but not until this mission is over, and definitely not on the first date.”
“Second?”
I wavered a hand in a maybe/maybe not manner and, with a laugh, he caught it and kissed it.
It was little more than a brush of heat, but it reverberated through me with an intensity that made my breath briefly catch.
With the gentlest of tugs, he pulled me closer, then released my hand and slid his over my hip, splaying his fingers against the middle of my back.
Desire rippled through me, thick and heady.
“Ensuring I won’t escape?”
“I can remove it if you want.”
“I don’t.”
His smile was that of a man who knew full well the internal havoc he was causing, but he didn’t say anything; he simply leaned forward, his mouth close to mine and yet still so far away, and his gaze intense and hungry.
A similar beast was waking deep inside me, and yet fear remained within.
I was shielded—fiercely shielded—but the last time I’d wanted someone this badly, I’d killed them.
His lips brushed mine, and the mess of desire, fear, and curiosity tumbling through me strengthened. I wanted this; I wanted him—lord only knew how desperately I wanted him—but I had to take it slow. If I didn’t...
Again, his lips teased mine. It was almost as if he could sense the wariness in me, and was allowing me the time to get used to the intimacy of this moment.
The third time, he kissed me. Gently at first, but gradually becoming more intense, more demanding.
Tongues tangled, tasted, teased, and it was...
better than I remembered. Better than I’d imagined.
I couldn’t say how long we lay there, doing this simplest of explorations, and didn’t really care.
But as a prelude to what lay in the future, this kiss was absolutely everything.
I slid a hand over his hip and pressed against the length of him, until all that separated his chest from mine was the thin layer of my T-shirt.
Until all I could feel was the force of his erection, hot and hard.
He groaned softly and trailed his hand from the middle of my back to my butt, pressing me closer against him, making me tremble in a way I never had before.
But it wasn’t just his touch, wasn’t just the press of his body against mine or the gentle dance of awareness that seemed to grow stronger with every breath.
It was as if, in this moment, there was far more than our physical selves involved in this gentle dance of lips.
And that was dangerous. The inner darkness might be contained, but she was stirring, and she wanted. Lord, how she wanted... though I wasn’t entirely sure if the “she” was my darkness or just hormones too long ignored.
Then his lips left mine and trailed down my chin, my neck, and paused on the pulse point at my neck. A gasp escaped, and he chuckled softly, his breath cool against my overheated skin.
“Shall I move on?”
“Yes. No.” I gathered the fragmenting wisps of control. “We can’t.”