“Then what is?”
“You have your unreadable secrets. I have mine.”
He set a plate of quinoa and vegetables before her. Verity closed her eyes, drawing in the crazy-good scents, until Rook touched her shoulder to sweep her hair back.
Meeting his gaze, they shared a smile that said everything she had wanted that kiss to mean to him.
“This meal won’t be anything to talk of after that kiss,” he said.
So he had been affected by it.
Smiling to herself, she forked in a bite. True, his kiss had been delicious, but the food was nothing to sneeze at. “I’ve only known you a few hours and already you’re spoiling me. If you keep feeding me like this, I may never leave.”
“Is that a promise?” He winked and poured a goblet of wine for himself.
* * *
While Rook loaded the dishwasher, Verity wandered into the living room. She didn’t feel compelled to help. Domesticity was not tops on her list. Admittedly, she spoiled herself with maid and catering services. She could afford it. An immortal witch with a mind to living many centuries compiled a nice portfolio over the years, and a cache of seventeenth-century gold given to her by a former lover who had taken infatuation to new levels was something she would appreciate for centuries to come.
The sudden awareness that Rook was behind her made her bow her head and smile. He was so quiet. Stealthy, like a hunter. But a sexy, cool stealth that disturbed her need to remain cautious around him. She was normally not so quick to jump into a man’s arms, let alone allow him to kiss her, but with Rook all her personal boundary rules seemed ridiculous.
Trust? Certainly not. But trust had nothing to do with lust.
He wanted to touch her? Bring it on. And don’t stop, pretty please.
He raked his fingers up through her hair, clutching a good portion of it, and tugged her head and shoulders back until she bent at the waist. Looking down at her and holding her firmly before him, he traced a finger down her neck and the vee décolletage of her T-shirt, leisurely skimming the mounds of her cleavage. To be held like this—controlled—excited her.
“Your skin is soft.” With a twist of his hand, he righted her to stand straight. His fingers never left her cleavage, and they felt like a cool summer breeze against her warm skin. “Your skin is like the flame you seem to have mastered. I’ve known witches over the years, and most avoid fire.”
“Because it can bring our death.”
He nodded, his jaw tensing. Burning a witch at the stake, or in any other manner, was the worst and most assured way to end their life. Had he witnessed such a travesty? Verity got the impression he suddenly wasn’t in the present moment, so she sought to lure him back.
With a teasing dip of her tongue out the corner of her mouth, she held up her palm, and with nothing more than a thought summoned a fireball the size of a plum to hover above her fingers.
Rook’s eyes alighted with the flame’s reflection, and his smile grew. “Marvelous. And so controlled. May I?” He opened his palm as if he wanted to hold it. “Can I?”
“If I allow it, you should be able to hold it a few seconds without getting burned.”
She tilted her palm, and the ball of ensorcelled flame rolled onto his hand without touching skin, only skimming above it. Her magic kept it from settling onto his palm, and she had to concentrate to make it stay there. He didn’t flinch at the heat, and she gave him credit for that. Perhaps his cooler skin also made it possible to hold it as long as he was.
Lifting his hand before his eyes, with his other fingers he touched the top of the ball. “Incredible.” The flames licked at his fingertips and he hissed, retracting and shaking out his palm and dropping the fireball.
Verity bent to sweep a hand through the flame, extinguishing it before it hit the wood floor.
“Sorry.” He studied his fingertips. “I’ll leave the fire magic to you.”
“You had to try it,” she said, taking his hand to inspect the damage. “I sense you are a man who likes to control whatever you can. You exude power.”
“Is anything wrong with that?”
“Not at all. So long as you don’t corrupt that power with greed or malevolence.” She kissed his fingertips, which were warm but had not touched the flame long enough to receive more than a red blush to the skin. “You want to play with something dangerous that’ll warm your hands?”
She stepped back, teasing her fingers along the neckline of her shirt. A dip of her head, and she looked up through her lashes at him. The hunger in Rook’s eyes brightened. He followed her as she backed across the room, nearing the Buddha statue. Only when the windowsill behind her stopped her progress did he smirk. Triumph. She was now trapped by the hunter, unless she dodged to the side.
Verity planted her feet. She preferred the capture.
Rook did not disappoint.
He swept a palm along her thigh and hooked her leg with a hand, coaxing it up along his hip. Pressing her back against the window frame, he placed a hand over her head as he leaned in and captured her mouth with another of his devastating kisses.
Verity tugged him closer with the leg she had wrapped behind his hip, and he nudged his erection against her Hard and ready. Goddess, but she could unzip him and take him in hand if she could get beyond the fact that this was happening so quickly. They’d shared a drink at a café and then supper, and now…
The devouring. Which she didn’t mind at all if she didn’t think about all the reasons to mind it. Reasons that included the fact that she knew nothing about this man and generally she was a bit more prudent when it came to intimacy.
His kisses tickled along her jaw and up her cheek, where he nuzzled into her hair and his breath hushed across her ear. The touch sent shivers up and down her skin. Verity coiled against him, wanting to pull him into her and become one with his powerful distraction of masculinity.
“You were right,” he said at her ear. “You are as hot as the flame but infinitely more interesting to play with.”
He slid a hand over her chest and she gasped, tilting back her shoulder to fit her breast against his palm. A squeeze of her nipple stirred up a moan, and in response he bent and mouthed her roughly through the fabric.
“Rook,” she gasped. “This is…”
“Fast?” he guessed, nudging his nose along the neckline of her shirt. A finger dragged the stretchy fabric aside. A dash of his tongue traced the rise of her breast. So sensitive there. “You want me to stop?”
“Uh…” Did she?
Hell no, and blessed be, yes.
She grasped behind her, and her fingers landed on the carved woodwork coasting a windowsill. Leaning away from him only thrust up her breasts and offered him more of what he wanted.
Yes, this is too fast, her conscience finally blurted at her. She and the hunter should take it slowly. Couldn’t give him everything he wanted so quickly. Bad things happened when she gave in—like stalking.
Verity shoved at his chest.
Rook stepped back, putting up his palms. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said quickly and offered him a sheepish smile. Swishing a curl of hair over her shoulder, she took a much-needed breath of air. “I didn’t want to stop you, yet I needed you to. It is a bit fast. Not that anything is wrong with fast. I just think—”
“I got it.” He dashed a hand across his lips and flicked a wink at her. “You’re right. I tend to take things that I want when a little prolonged desire is best employed. We should savor this.”
She nodded eagerly. “Savoring is good.”
At the same time she wished she wasn’t so prudent to hold him off, and instead, could grab him by the shirt and pull him back for more.
“Any way I can convince you to go along with me to headquarters tomorrow to look at mug shots?”
“Still don’t want to take sides.”
