Page 128 of A Winding Wave of Magic
“Jonathan, please.”
He turned back, sorrow and dread painting that strong brow.
“There’s a savage in me too,” I said, low and fierce. “Couldn’t you See it from the very beginning? Don’t you See it now?”
He looked at me for a long time, and then, finally: “Yes. I do.”
Then, he lunged.
If our first kiss was marred by fear—a peck so brief we had barely touched before flying away from each other—this one was all fury. The desire we had both nursed since meeting, had bothfelt since Jonathan had shown up months later on the Harvard lawn.
The savages in both of us were released from their cages.
There in the alley, we couldn’t get close enough, and for the first time in my life, I couldn’t think, only feel as my legs found their way around his waist, my hands sinking into the thick pelt of his hair. The urgent, furious taste of Jonathan’s mouth beckoned mine right back, and I could think of nothing but having more, tasting more. Need coursed through him right back into me, as intoxicating as any drink.
We weren’t kissing. We were feasting.
His fire burned bright, a hot amber flame. The water in me, so cold at its center it must have been ice, flowed freely, hissing in pleasure at contact.
The streets were for walking, shadows for lurking. Every brick wall between the Raider and the Carson knew my back, the imprints of his palms, the fury of these kisses.
Dublin was forever marked. One day, a seer like me might brush an errant hand on these walls and See one of these kisses. She would fall to the ground, for she wouldn’t have a sorcerer to hold her up even as he sought to plunder her heart and soul.
Pure, naked lust hummed through Jonathan’s merciless grip on my waist and my thighs. His large green eyes fairly glowed in the night, betraying the feral cat always lurking beneath the genteel façade. He said his mother was a siren too, and at that moment, I could believe it. It was taking most of my self-control not to give myself to him there on the street.
And why not? I wondered as he pinned me to a tree toppling over the edge of St. Patrick’s Park. The medieval cathedral loomed over us like it was daring us to violate its sacred space. Part of me wanted to rebel, to show these towers of piety a magic far older than they. Part of me wanted to laugh, to sing to the moon, to cry victory like my pagan ancestors would have done.
Because wasn’t this what my youth was for? For years, I’d listened to (or sometimes just Seen) roommates wax on about their inebriated nights out, party hook-ups, or those perfect first dates. I’d enjoyed none of those experiences—was this what they meant?
I didn’t know why I was finally able to enjoy something so simple as a few drunken kisses with Jonathan Lynch, but I wasn’t going to argue with it.
Me too, he seemed to agree, though his thoughts were far beyond the realm of simple articulation. And I was too far lost in the moment to care anyway.
Somehow we stumbled back to The Carson with our clothes still on, though both of us shook with the desire formoreas we darted past the curious glances of the hotel staff and guests in the lobby.
“Six!” Jonathan snarled once we were inside the elevator.
The doors closed, and he slipped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close for yet another kiss. I gasped as his hands slid down my thighs and lifted me easily against the wall. And for once, I didn’t want to escape.
“Gods,” he growled. “What have you done to me?”
The doors opened, and my feet dropped to the floor before Jonathan dragged me down the hall. I groaned, wanting more now than just kisses, a thought which only served to propel him faster down the corridor.
Once inside our suite, I sighed with relief as his mouth found mine again. We kicked off our shoes, and then our coats were on the floor, followed by shirts. His chest bore a soft scatter of sandy-brown hair that narrowed down over a flat stomach and disappeared under his belt buckle. Suddenly finding it very hard to breathe, I moaned softly as his hands roamed my shirtless back and pressed me firmly against him, skin to skin.
“Truth?” I mumbled as his lips traveled down my neck. “I’ve thought about this for months.”
A chuckle just over my pulse, and another fervent kiss met my lips. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t Seen the things you want me to do to you? Where you want my hands, my mouth, my cock?—”
I shuddered as said mouth found the soft spot behind my ear and sucked hard.Yesssss. I had no shame. Not even a little.
I imagined it too, he thought when he could no longer speak, overcome by the softness of my breast under his palm. His teeth sank into my neck as he toyed with the soft flesh, plucked at the puckered nipple.But then I don’t have to, because I can See exactly what you want.
I gasped as he replaced his fingers with his mouth. Sucked in another harsh breath when he knewexactlyhow to worry the sensitive peak with his teeth.
His hand slipped down my waist, peeling my jeans down until he was kneeling before me.
He stared for a long time between my legs, taking deep breaths, and memorizing my scent. Because itwaswhat he wanted—his touch told me so.
