Page 12 of The Satyr Next Door
I should be afraid. Any rational person would be. He was stronger, faster, other in ways I couldn’t predict. But instead, I felt safer than I had in years.
“No,” I breathed. And it was true.
Something shifted in his expression, satisfaction and relief and something much hotter. The hand not holding my wrist came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing over my cheekbone with care.
"Good," he said, and then he was kissing me.
Chapter 7
Gina
It was nothing like I’d expected. Nothing like the desperate, grabbing kisses in romance movies, or the perfunctory, duty-bound ones from the last years of my marriage.
This was slow. Deliberate. A question asked with lips and tongue, one I answered before I’d consciously decided to participate.
He kissed me as if he had all the time in the world, like nothing existed beyond this moment. When he traced the seam of my lips with his tongue, I opened without hesitation, and the low sound of approval he made went straight to the center of me.
He pushed his hand into my hair and tilted my head to deepen the kiss. Everything about him was foreign and familiar all at once, like coming home to a place I’d never been, but had always been searching for.
The world narrowed to sensation: his mouth against mine, his thumb stroking my pulse like he was keeping time with my heartbeat, his scent wrapping around me like a spell. I was drowning in it. With him, I was wanted, seen.
My free hand slid into his hair, the golden curls softer than I expected, warm from the sun. My fingers brushed a horn. I gasped.
He groaned into my mouth, raw and pleased, the sound making my knees buckle.
When we broke apart, I was plastered against him. The basket had spilled, peaches rolling across the dirt like golden marbles, the burrata still wrapped in its paper, the bread half-crushed beneath my feet.
Cal laughed, low and utterly satisfied, rubbing his face against my neck and jaw. His thumb never left my pulse point, as though he needed proof I was still here, still alive under his touch, still choosing to stay.
"I brought you fruit and cheese," I said weakly, voice shaking with more than nerves. "Not—"
"Not yourself?" he supplied, his eyes bright with mischief and heat when he looked at me.
The implication sent fire flooding my face. "That's not what I meant—"
But he cut me off with a brush of lips on my neck, just below my ear. "I'll take both."
My heart stumbled, then launched into a rhythm that probably qualified as a medical emergency.
He bent gracefully, retrieving the bread with exaggerated care, dusting off imaginary dirt before settling back against the trunk of the fig tree. Then he reached for me again, utterly casual, utterly certain I would come.
And I did.
Like I was magnetized. Fighting it was impossible. I sank down beside him in the grass, my shoulder brushing his. He pulled me closer without asking, arranging me against his side as if I’d always belonged there.
The basket's scattered contents spread between us like an impromptu picnic. He broke the bread, still perfectly crusty despite its tumble, and offered me the first piece. I took it automatically, my fingers brushing his, and the heat that zinged through my palm was as dizzying as the kiss had been.
"Do you do this often?" I asked, nibbling bread to cover the shake in my voice.
"What? Invite women into my garden?" His grin was lazy, wicked, completely unrepentant. "Only when they sneak in carrying offerings like some kind of suburban priestess."
I rolled my eyes, but the sound that escaped me was more laugh than protest. "It's hardly an offering. I thought it was polite, since you've been leaving me figs like some kind of fae trickster trying to lure me into your realm."
"Polite," he mused, plucking a rescued grape and holding it up between thumb and forefinger like he was examining a precious jewel. His gaze slid to mine, deliberate and loaded with meaning. "That word doesn't suit you, Bella. Not when you moaned over my figs like a woman savoring something sinful."
I nearly choked on bread. "You heard that?"
"I have excellent hearing," he said, completely unashamed. "I heard enough to know you enjoyed them. Thoroughly."
