Page 61 of The Healer

“You rattle my control, Lona. From the moment you stubbornly refused to get in your car and leave me out in the snow. Your husky voice, your lavender scent.” He dipped his face into the curve of her neck and inhaled. “Beautiful.”

“I’m not…ready for whatever this is, Rhys. Not by a long shot.”

He stilled, pushing himself into a plank position. “What happened, sweetheart?”

She shook her head, not wanting to talk about it, not wanting it to be real as if speaking it confirmed her worst nightmare.

“Is that why you whimper in your sleep?” He lowered himself, his length and weight pinning her again. Instead of trapping or smothering her, his presence melted her resolve.

Cupping her cheeks, he stole short, sweet kisses, between tugging at her bottom lip with his. His persistence didn’t piss her off. He made her feel cherished. He didn’t deepen the kiss but waited for her to respond. Patience flowed off him. He acted as if he needed to know her thoughts like they mattered to him.

“No screaming, pleading, or wailing?” She expected worse than whimpering.

“Ilona, please, tell me.”

She released a shuddering breath and slipped her arms around his waist. “About three weeks ago…” On cue, the tears formed and slipped free. With her hands on him, she couldn’t wipe them away, couldn’t press her fingertips to her eyes to stem the flow. So, she lowered her gaze, letting the tears fall. “My parents died.” Those three words tore through her, and she sobbed. “Me, a doctor, and I couldn’t save them.”

“Oh, Lona, sweetheart.” He rolled over, taking her with him. His arms tightened around her, keeping her close.

His embrace, like Dane’s, opened the floodgates, and she cried great shuddering sobs. Rhys whispered sweet nothings but held her for as long as she needed him too.

He rubbed her back or rocked her until her tears dwindled. “Tell me about your folks, Lona. What did you love the most?”

Her heart swelled to bursting, and right then, she knew she was in trouble. As she blurted out her parents’ idiosyncrasies, and he listened and laughed with her, she tried to build a wall around her heart. Any man who cared enough to endure her blubbering was a man to avoid. Without a doubt, he would break her heart because loving him meant losing him.

Not if she went with him, if she researched the healing efficacy of shifter blood. As boyfriends went, one who couldn’t get sick halved her chances of them dying and breaking her heart. She could only find out by going with him.

“Feel like pancakes, bacon, maple syrup, fresh coffee?” Rubbing his thumb across her bottom lip, he dipped his head and kissed her, moaning when she parted her mouth for his intrusion. He shuddered, his heartbeat thumping through their chest cavities. Power rushed over her, at her ability to affect such a virile man.

He leaned back and brushed the curls off her temple. “I could warm the soup?”

“No leftover pizza?” she teased, suspecting he had eaten it all.

A slow smile crawled across his face, warming the deep blue of his eyes. “I definitely want to date you.”

“So you keep saying.” She grinned. “But instead of enticing me with your gorgeous body and boyish charm, you’re bribing me with your laboratory and your blood.” She twisted her lips to imply that was weird but ruined it with a chuckle.

“I didn’t think just me would be enough.”

His honest answer smothered her laughter, and there before her, was a man as insecure as she was. “Rhys, you’re a wonderful man, and you are more than enough. It’s just that I can’t live through losing someone I love. Not again.”

“You choose not to love?” He frowned. “Ilona, that’s not how love works. When you don’t want it, it will find you.”

“I’m doomed to love because I don’t want to?” She closed her eyes at the sincerity in his. She could love him, and if he continued to be sweet, kind, considerate, loving him might happen faster. “Be mean to me, no sweet gestures, no typical boyfriend behavior.”

“I’m your boyfriend? I’ll take that as a win.” He laughed, the husky quality of it reverberating through her. “Lunar above, Ilona, love doesn’t work like that either. Are you curious about me, my life, my origins? Do you want to spend time with me? Do you find me attractive? How does any non-boyfriend behavior impact any of those questions?”

Her breath hitched. She wanted to know the answers, to learn what had molded such a remarkable man. “Rhys, please, don’t make me love you.”

“Why not?” He tightened his embrace and snatched a quick kiss. “Do you want to sleep in my arms? To kiss me whenever you want to? To share in my joys, hopes, sorrows, and to have me share your burdens? If you can answer that with honesty, Lona, then you’re ready for love.”

When he rolled off her and the bed, he took her with him. He gripped her ass, massaging each backside cheek with his large hands. Shards of need were swift to strike, and she trembled under his touch.

He straightened as if he heard something but didn’t retreat. “I have every intention of pursuing your kisses, the feel of your ass in my hands, the paradise between your thighs.” He stole another too-short kiss. “Let me know when you’re ready to love me.”

He released her a second before a knock sounded on her front door. She gritted her teeth, torn between relief and irritation at the intrusion. Let him know when she could love him? It was sweet of him to wait, but it added pressure to her chaotic thoughts and emotions.

“Why are you knocking? It’s your house.” Amos’s voice sliced through the sensual tension thrumming between Rhys and Ilona.

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