Page 30 of Willow and the Wraith

“Only eyes. Violet eyes.”

She put her hand on his face, turning it towards her.

“Eyes like yours.”

It wasn’t a question but he found himself nodding anyway.

“I think… perhaps… my mother.”

The word struck him like a physical blow, a fragment of his nightmare rushing back as pain lanced through his head. Harsh voices echoed in his mind, accompanied by the acrid smell of smoke and the metallic tang of blood. His fists clenched involuntarily, knuckles turning white as he fought both the physical pain and the pain of that piece of his past.

“I can’t do this,” he growled, his voice rough.

The words tasted bitter on his tongue, a mixture of regret and self-preservation.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

Her voice was low and soothing, but he needed to do something. He wanted to lose himself in her warmth and softness, to block out those shadowy memories that threatened to destroy him.

He acted without thinking, bending down to claim her mouth, needing her to soothe the hollow ache in his chest. He was almost surprised when she parted her lips willingly, allowing his tongue inside to brush against hers. Her sweetness flooded his mouth and her scent replaced the phantom smells from his dream.

He kissed her harder, the darkness receding, and she welcomed him. He lost himself in the sensation of her soft mouth and the taste of her tongue as it tangled with his, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more of her.

He pulled away slightly, studying her face. She looked back at him, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire but still understanding, her expression still soft and welcoming.

His gaze moved slowly to her kiss-swollen lips and the small, tempting swell of her breasts rising above the covers. He wanted to trace her curves with his tongue, to memorize every inch of her skin with his hands. He wanted to make her his.

“I need you.”

He hadn’t meant to say that, but he heard the truth in his words.

“I’m here for you,” she whispered. “Whatever you need.”

Another piece of his past surged to the surface as if he’d been waiting for her to say those words. He blinked, trying to grasp the flash of memory, but it faded, replaced by the sight of her looking up at him with her beautiful eyes.

“Willow… “

He hesitated, unsure what he wanted to say. He felt exposed, the walls around him crumbling, and he was utterly at war with himself.

She drew him back down into a kiss and he was lost.

He captured her face between his hands, cupping it as gently as he could as he explored her mouth, trying to take his time. He was rewarded when she pressed closer, her soft body rubbing against him as her hands crept up to tangle in his hair, releasing its usual tight knot. He could feel the hardened peaks of her nipples brushing against his chest through the thin fabric of their clothes, an irresistible temptation.

He lowered his mouth to her neck, and she arched up with a soft gasp as he kissed a line from her ear to her collarbone.

“You like that,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

She moaned and he did it again, running his tongue across the delicate curve of her throat and then nipping her sharply, marking her as his. The need to claim her, to make her his in every way, surged through him and he felt a moment of panic before he forced it away. He fumbled with the hem of her shirt, wanting to feel her skin against his.

“I like everything you do,” she breathed, and he could feel her heart pounding under his hand as he trailed his fingers up her body.

The soft fabric of her shirt bunched under her arms, exposing the soft swell of her stomach and the pale pink tips of her nipples. He captured one between his lips, sucking gently as he cupped the silken curve with his hand, before moving to the other one. She gasped and arched into his mouth, her breath coming in shallow pants that only spurred him on.

He tugged impatiently at her shirt, not wanting anything between them, and she lifted her arms to help him strip it off, then reached for the waistband of his trousers.

“No.” He took her hand, trapping it against his thigh as he continued to explore the sensitive underside of her breast. “Let me discover you first.”

He needed to take his time, to savor this. To sear her into his memory, to replace that blank piece of his past with her image.

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