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But for a second we savor it, his hand on my cheek, as the rain drums and Tanker’s toy hums and the world keeps spinning.
But not for us, contained within this moment, this passing heaven. For us, time stands still as we stare into each other. Love, something like love, a breed of passion, commitment, and ownership flares awake inside of me.
I beat the word down.
Love, love. It can’t be that, not so soon…
And yet I wonder. I ache and contemplate.
He removes his hand, ending the timeless moment.
“I thought you could sit in the room as I try to write.”
“And do what?”
“That’s the thing.” I’ve never seen eyes so bright, so filled with immutable passion, as though there are little infernos contained within him. “You wouldn’t need to do anything. There’s something about being close to you, angel. There’s something… transformative about it. I know it sounds crazy. But this whole thing is crazy.”
“Transformative, how?” I murmur, unable to stop myself.
He chuckles. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
“Maybe.” I giggle, tilting my head at him, summoning up some sassiness. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No damn way,” he snarls. “You’ve transformed me. I can’t let myself get too worked up about it, because then I won’t be able to stop myself… to stick to our deal.”
I bite my lip, then quickly release it when I remember how passion-filled he became the last time I did it. It’s a new thing to get used to, how alert he is to every little thing I do.
“But you’ve changed me. Before I laid eyes on you, I didn’t know what I wanted with the future. I write – or try to write – because it’s what I’ve always done. It saved me when I was growing up. It gave me an escape. But other than that, I was blind to what was going to come…
“And I then I saw you, and everything solidified, as though my future was clay and suddenly it found its shape. It’s you, Rayla. The shape of you. Not just your looks, but your heart, your soul. Do you believe in souls?”
“I didn’t,” I say, laughing. “I mean, I’m not sure if I did. I never gave it much thought. But if you’d asked me, I probably would have said no.”
“And now? Because I’m starting to think I do. I know it’s crazy, but I’m starting to think this storm has trapped us here for a reason.” He shakes his head and chuckles at his own words. “I know how crazy that makes me sound.”
“Then I’ll be crazy with you.” Without stopping to question it, I dart my hands forward and clutch onto his, feeling his warmth and his strength and his agitation. “Because I feel exactly the same. We have to be careful not to cross any lines, obviously, but we can be honest about that.”
“About destiny,” he growls, leaning close.
He brings his face inches from mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. His hot breath hovers over my cheeks and my lips, igniting a thousand tiny bonfires all over my face, each of them sizzling.
Then somehow we separate, both of us pulling back.
“Shall we try your plan?” I ask.
He nods, but his eyes stay locked on me the whole time. “Let’s go.”
Together we rise – not touching, but my body aches for it – and walk through the cabin. Tanker stays in the gym with his toy. And even if we leave all the doors open, so he can return to us any time he wants, I still can’t stop the aching awareness.
We’re going to be alone again.
My heart thunders and my core throbs, tightly, wetly, when I remember how he claimed me once when we were alone, the way his tongue felt against my eager sex.
His office is a small bare room, with a carved oak desk looking out at a window and a brown dog bed in the corner, but not much else. I wander over to one of the three chairs, sitting up against the wall.
His lips do quirk almost like a smile as he stands at his desk, but there’s an edge to it, a wolf’s instinct trying to flash through the look. “I like to keep my offices as empty of distractions as I can,” he says huskily. “I hope that’s alright.”
I squint my eyes and pout playfully at him. “It’s fine. Stop procrastinating. You’ve got some writing to do.”
His gaze lingers on me for a time, his chest rising and falling softly. His eyes are filled with something like determination, his lips twisted now. For a second I think he’s going to turn and flee the room. But finally, he sits down, switching on his computer and tinkering with the mouse and keyboard.
“Okay, chapter one,” he says, sighing as he glances over at me.
I give him the best supportive smile I can muster, praying all my desires for him come through my expression. I can see how important this is to him, the seriousness with which he’s taking it gripping my wifely instincts.
