“This will help.” Cerise reached for my hand, holding it tenderly. I winced as she gently prodded my knuckles. “You definitely broke a couple of fingers.”
“Can you heal it?”
“Of course.” She ran her fingers along the top of my hand, a subtle glow emanating from where she touched me. The soreness in my hand worsened, then turned to itching as she pushed more magic into my first knuckle.
“So…you’ve never punched anyone before?”
“Never. Not the biggest fan of violence.”
“Then why did you do it?” She rubbed her finger along the next knuckle.
I couldn’t look away from her face as I answered, my eyes studying the delicate curve of her dainty nose, her full dark lashes, her lush bottom lip I so desperately wanted to bite.
“He grabbed you. Tried to hurt you. I did what I had to.”
“Thank you.” Her attention still on my hand, she swallowed, my eyes following the movement. I wanted to run my tongue up the column of her throat and make her whimper. I wanted to wrap her hair around my fist and kiss her senseless. I wanted to hear the sounds she made when she came, and then make her do it again and again until she couldn’t remember her own name.
But I also wanted to know her deepest, darkest fears; what brought her joy; what made her sad. I wanted to see what she looked like when she stood before her students, passionately lecturing in her classroom. I wanted to hear her laugh as I teased her. I wanted to hold her hand as I took her to a loud pub—that she would claim to hate—so I could see the twinkle in her eye as she let herself relax.
Fuck. This was bad…I was falling for this woman.
“You’re a talented healer, Cerise,” I said, trying to distract myself from wanting to shove my tongue in her mouth again. “You truly used to want to be an animal healer?”
“Yes,” she said, moving her fingers to my last broken knuckle.
“Well, what’s stopping you?” I asked.
She paused, meeting my gaze. “I have a job and a career.”
“So?”
“It’s too late for career changes, Liam.” She shook her head, pouring a little more magic into my hand before letting go. I flexed, my hand sore, but perfectly intact.
“It’s never too late to go after the things you want,” I said.
“I’m too old to start over.”
“Too old? How old are you anyway? Thirty four?”
“Thirty five,” she said, hands on her hips. “Wait, how old are you?”
I gave her a smirk. “Thirty one. You’re going after a younger man.”
She scoffed but it didn’t hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. “I’m notgoing afteryou.”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “That’s exactly why you kissed me this morning.”
“I did not kiss you.Youkissedme.”
“That’s what you want to think, but I’m quite positive you initiated it.”
I didn’t actually know, but teasing her was fun. And perhaps it would get her to open up and not be so uptight about what had happened.
She made a noise of frustration. That cute noise I adored.
“Anyway, sunshine, back to our previous conversation. You are not too old to start over. Let me ask you a question.”
Her arms were crossed as she waited.
