“They weren’t there when we stepped through the passage, and they’re not here now, but I think I can summon them as needed.”
“Try it,” I say eagerly. “Try and summon them.”
“Alright.”
He stands and walks to the center of the small room.
The shift in the air is subtle at first. I don’t see them rise, but I hear them unfurl behind him in a soft, careful, almost reluctant manner.
I rise to my feet and search the air tentatively until I find them, my fingers trembling. My breath stutters as I slide my hand along the span of his right wing. The outer feathers are long and smooth, firm beneath my fingers. Closer in, they soften into a thicker, warmer layer.
My stomach flip-flops.
“They’re…beautiful.” I wet my lips, both of my hands now moving over his wings, slower now, learning the shape of them, mapping them out with a touch that isn’t as innocent as I pretend it is.
Jealousy and wonder mingle in my blood as I reach the place where the wings attach to his body. At the base, my fingertips sink into a dense layer of soft down feathers, and E lets out a low, unsteady groan.
I trace the narrow strip of skin running between his wings down his spine to the hem of his pants. The fabric is brittle beneath my touch, and I realize my fire burned through his clothes the same way it did mine.
I hook one finger in the hole right above his buttocks. “You let yourself burn for me.” The words come out shaky as hell. “Why?”
His wings vanish with a soft ruffling sound, and he spins around, his hands traveling up my arms.
“Fire can’t hurt me, Max. But I do burn for you.”
He dips down for a kiss, but I raise a hand to his torso.
“Wait.”
He stops an inch short of my mouth, his breath ghosting over my lips.
“What if you’re married?” I squeak.
“What if I’m not? What if I was meant to meet you all along? What if you die tomorrow?” his thumb caresses my cheek. “What-ifs are the single most dangerous mind-fuck there is, because you can twist them to fit any narrative. I’m here with you now, and I want you, and I think you want me. If you don’t want us to kiss, then say it. I will respect your choice, but don’t hide behind what-ifs, little fox.”
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“So tell me the truth. Not the careful version. Not the reasonable one.” His voice drops to a husky drawl. “Do youwantme to kiss you?”
I bite my bottom lip, standing on my tiptoes to bridge the distance between us. “Fuck, yes.”
He smiles against my mouth, and I’m smiling too, giddy and breathless and so full of him I could burst.
His kiss steals the air from my lungs, all pent-up hunger and relief. His large hands cradle my face before traveling up and down the length of my arms.
“Here. Let me.” He pulls on the hem of my shirt and passes it over my head.
After slipping one strap of my black satin bra down my shoulders to kiss the skin underneath, he claims my mouth again, and a thrill shoots through me.
“You don’t mess around, do you?” I breathe against his lips.
“I have spent too long as an incorporeal ghost. Don’t ask me to act like I’m not starving.”
His mouth dips to my neck, his warm kisses leaving delicious bruises in their wake, enough to make me shiver, and I tip my head back with a shaky sound.
“I would rather be the worst mistake you ever make than not know the taste of you, and while your gorgeous head doubts and pretends to put up a fight, I know you’re already soaking wet for me.”
He slips a hand down my stomach and under the elastic of my pants, gliding over the lace and growling with pride. “Here, see? Fuckingglisteningfrom just one kiss.”
