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"I wish I could see your face right now," he said quietly.
A shudder of longing moved through Lainie at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to her before; it implied something she wasn't used to. As if she were the woman he wanted to be with right now, not simply a body in darkness.
Before she could fight against the words, they seeped past her armor and lodged in an area dangerously close to her heart. Water lapped against her breasts like feather-strokes, brought her nipples to a tender hardness. The first tingling throb of response pulsed between her legs.
God help her, she wanted to turn around and kiss him. She wanted to curl her arms around his neck and draw him close, to press up onto her toes and rub her body against his, feel the curling softness of his hair against her breasts.
It was just lust, she told herself. Just garden-variety lust.
He rinsed her hair and gently turned her around. She looked up at him, and suddenly she was thinking about kissing him, wondering what it would be like.
Just lust, she told herself again. Ordinary lust. It doesn 't mean a thing. Her hormones were out of whack; that was all.
She cleared her throat and tried to sound casual. "Th-Thanks. How 'bout if I make us some coffee now?"
"I think I have a taste for something else." His gravelly, rough-edged voice made her think of a thousand forbidden things. Hot, secret touches and sexy whispers.
She wanted to look away, but couldn't. "What?" The word cracked.
"I think you know."
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The look he gave her was so hot, so smoldering, she felt herself blush.
Almost what you'd expect of a soul mate.
She tried to shake off the ridiculous thought, but once it landed in her mind, it stuck firm.
Lean on me, Lainie. Go ahead.
You're safe now.
Every kindness he'd ever showed her came back now with stunning force, took on a new, impossible meaning. She shivered.
Was it possible? she wondered. Had they loved each other before, in a time and place that neither could recall? Was it possible that the faces and names had changed, but the souls had remained constant? Could hearts remember what minds could not?
The question caught fire and consumed her. She tried to fight it, tried to tell herself it was all a lot of mumbo-jumbo and didn't mean a thing, but the idea was seductive. She felt its power move through her, crumbling any resistance in its path.
It's just lust, she told herself yet again, desperate this time to believe it. She didn't want to be soul mates, didn't want to believe in some everlasting love that existed in 1896.
He moved closer in a ripple of water, his gaze fixed and measuring on her face.
"It's just lust," she muttered softly, tilting her chin. And there was one certain way to prove it.
Chapter Twenty
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She was going to kiss him.
She didn't want to kiss him; Killian could see the reluctance in her eyes. He could see, too, the cold glint of determination in her gaze. She was going to kiss him to prove something.
He couldn't wait to see what it was and how far she'd go to prove it. He backed up a little and sat down on the edge of the pond, scooting back to dangle his legs in the water. All of a sudden he wished he was naked, instead of clad in wet, clinging drawers. At his movement, she paused for a second, frowning. Then she tilted her chin again and muttered something about lust.
"Stand up," she said in a throaty voice.
