“I can’t,” I said in a voice that was all breath. “I can’t wait.”
He smiled a slow, dark smile. “It will be worth it.”
From that look, I guessed arguing with him would only extend my wait.
I got into the shower and let the warm water stroke my aching skin. I fumbled with the soap, but managed to wash myself left-handed without dropping anything or falling over. Then I washed and rinsed my hair, which was not as easy as it seemed. My right hand was bandaged, sore, and I didn’t really want to put soap on it. My left shoulder, however, hurt every time I raised my arm, so that pretty much counted out my left hand. Still, this wasn’t the first time I’d had to take care of my battered body. I managed.
I even turned off the water on my own.
I pulled back the curtain.
Zayvion still leaned against my sink. He held a towel in his hands.
I stepped out, took the towel, and wrapped it around me without bothering to dry off.
“I’m done.” I leaned full body against him, warm, naked, and slid my good hand down to the button of his jeans. I pressed my palm there, cradling his warmth. He grunted, and I grinned. Oh, I liked what I could do to this lovely, lovely man.
I thumbed the button through the button hole, letting my knuckles press against his stomach. He needed me, wanted me, that much was clear. But instead of unzipping his jeans, I stepped away.
I unlocked the door and didn’t care how cold it was in the hallway as I swayed off to my bedroom. I didn’t hear him behind me. Of course, I never heard him. But I could feel him. His need so strong, it was like a second pulse beneath my skin. I stopped next to the bed.
I pulled off my towel, let it drop to the floor, and heard the door close behind me.
I turned and watched as Zayvion unzipped his jeans and pulled them off. He stood naked before me-dark, intense. A condom appeared in his hand, and I was glad he remembered. I wasn’t sure I had any in the house.
I wanted to savor him, touch him slowly, taste his body, his soul. I held my arms open for him and he stalked over to me. We pressed together, folding into each other’s embrace. His hands slid down to the back of my thighs and he lifted me.
He lowered me gently onto the bed and held himself above me, his hungry gaze taking me in before he bent his head, his lips searching and finding my breast. He exhaled, something between a moan and a sigh, my name, I think.
He leaned to one side, supported by his elbow, and drew away just enough to trace something with his fingertip against my stomach. A glyph. Infinity, again.
“Zay?” I asked.
He just smiled and kissed the side of my throat, drawing magic up through me. The glyph against my skin warmed. Magic spread through me, hot, sweet, following the stroke of his tongue, circling the glyph on my stomach, growing stronger until I had to stretch to hold it all.
Oh. Oh yes.
Magic drew a second pleasure beneath my skin, settled like a weight in my belly. I wanted Zayvion. Wanted to open for him, wanted to wrap around him, feel him hard, powerful, inside me.
I kissed the side of his jaw softly, not wanting to split my lip on the rough stubble of his skin.
He stroked his palm down my body again until his fingers slipped to the warmth between my legs.
His fingertips were cool and drew a slow, delicious circle, then withdrew.
“Please,” I said.
And then there was no more talking. No more thinking. He was with me, in me, and my heartbeat was too loud. I inhaled, tasted mint, pine, threw my head back, moaned.
Magic licked fire across my nerves, aching, Zayvion pulling on magic. I reveled in the sensation of our bodies together, the stroke and texture of him inside me, stretching my senses, making me tingle, ache, burn, making me needful. I gasped, each breath short, shorter.
Heat, a deep, silken stroke took me, shaped me, shaped us, magic, every inch of my body, until I knew I could not be this any longer, could not be only myself. I wanted more. And magic could give it to me.
I called magic up through me and sent it, racing, wild, into Zayvion. He groaned. Shuddered. His eyes washed with gold.
A plunge of cool mint pressed me down. Like iron to lightning, he Grounded me, drinking down the magic that I poured into him. Magic rolled through me, through Zayvion, then rushed back through me again. I did not know where he began and I ended. Magic and need were one, and I was lost to it. Lost beneath his hands. I closed my eyes, arching, reaching, needing more. More.
Zayvion’s breathing became my breathing, his heartbeat my heartbeat. I wanted to wait, wanted him to beg for me to give him release, but I could not stop, too caught in our tempo, as we slipped up and up and up.
For a brief, bright moment, I was whole, alive, complete, hovering upon the crest of a wave that crashed through me, hot, rushing. I shuddered and trembled and clung to Zayvion, wrapped around him, not wanting to let him go.
Heat lapped over me, simmering into a languid warmth, releasing my breath and heartbeat slowly, and making every muscle in my body heavy.
Zayvion kissed the corner of my mouth, and I exhaled the taste of mint.
We rested there, sated, still embracing, unwilling to draw apart. Zayvion leaned his head against my shoulder-the good one-and I drew my fingertips lazily down the back of his head, tugged at his dark curls before sliding my fingers down the back of his neck.
I was exhausted. Tingling. I felt like I’d just taken a few hits of pure oxygen. Zayvion’s strong, wide body felt so right. This felt so right.
Why had I ever doubted him? Us?
He took a deep breath and kissed my shoulder, my collarbone. I moaned softly, pulsing gently to his touch, as he gently drew away from me and shifted to lie next to me.
I rolled onto my side, toward him, my back to the door. He wrapped his arms around me.
He stroked the curve of my cheek and temple with his thumb, calling magic to rise softly, then fall like mist away from his touch. “I never want to hurt you.”
It was a strange thing to say after making love.
Not knowing what else to do, I just nodded.
We lay there a while. I wanted more, wanted to make love to him again. Instead, I drifted off to sleep.
* * *
A knock at the door woke me.
“I’m going out.” It was Nola. “There’s breakfast in the kitchen for both of you. I’ll be down at the courthouse, and later with Detective Stotts. I should be back around six.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks. Bye.” I clutched my blankets like they were going to fly away.
Zayvion wiped his hand over his face and grinned at me. “You didn’t forget she was here?”
And I knew I was blushing because I felt the heat of it spread across my chest and up my neck and face.
“No,” I lied. “Of course not.” I waited until I heard the front door close and then pushed the covers off. I felt the need to be dressed now. Just in case someone or something else decided to drop by. I found clean jeans, panties, bra, a tank, and green sweater. I managed the panties on my own. Then picked up my jeans.
“Gonna go that alone?” Zay asked.
The man lounged in my bed like a cat claiming a sun-beam, stretched out with only the corner of the blanket over his hips. I literally had to wait a second to get my breath back. It didn’t help when he smiled and stretched, flexing all the muscles down his hard stomach.
Maybe all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed with him.
“You offering to help?” I asked.
“Could. Might cost you.”
“So you’re going to blackmail me and leave me naked?”