Page 73 of Enchanted Kisses
20
The Art Of Manipulation
Ichecked my phone for messages after Dagan dropped me off at home. Raysa had left two texts saying she would pick me up in an hour. For some reason, I had thought we were getting ready here.
The text before that explained we were getting ready at the manor, and that she’d either turned a bathroom into a spa or had a spa in her bathroom. Excitement always caused her to talk or text with run-on sentences.
While I was gone, someone had cleared the bags that Caiden and I had stacked in the corner of my room. All that remained was my little turquoise suitcase, packed and ready to go.
I sat on the couch in the family room, staring out the glass patio doors, waiting for Raysa to arrive. The sun had set behind the woods, and orange and purple streaked the sky.
Pinched between my fingers was a folded piece of paper. At the last second, I’d asked Dagan to give me the poem Caiden had written. I wanted to show it to Raysa.
Noises stirred upstairs.
“I’m down here,” I shouted then stuffed the poem in my pocket and bent to pick up my suitcase.
From behind, a hand smoothed down my arm, leaving a trail of warm kisses in its wake. “I’ll get that,” Caiden said.
I froze. “I thought Raysa was coming for me.”
“I insisted I be the one. I missed you.”
I straightened but kept my back to him, my heart thundering in my chest.
He swept my hair aside and kissed my neck.
Oh, did it feel good. My eyes closed, and my head fell to the side as I released a sigh. Submerged in hundreds of warm kisses, I felt as if I were sinking into a bubble bath. I could hardly stand.
“Stop, please stop,” I whispered, my traitorous pulse thrumming wildly.
His hand fell from my arm.
I stepped away and faced him.
His eyes shined bright, his skin shimmered, and he looked stunning. Rumpled to perfection, his streaked locks fell over one eye. When he brushed them away, I gawked like the pathetic, lovesick girl he’d wished me to be.
His untucked navy T-shirt and low-waisted jeans reminded me of the old him, even though the body beneath had changed considerably. He never had the crisp appearance of Dagan. He favored a disheveled, natural look. On him, I favored it, too.
“As much as I love how you’re looking at me, I don’t like how far away you are. You belong here.” He pointed to his side and reached his hand out to me.
“Can we talk?” I asked.
His shimmer faded and his eyes dulled.
I moved to the far end of the couch and sat.
His eyes closed and his features twisted with pain. “You’ve decided.”
“No.” The urge to be near him tore at me. I gripped the cushion, forcing myself to stay put.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What aren’t you saying?”
I cleared my throat, my gaze fixed on the coffee table. “Why do you want my vow?”
He appeared before me on his knees, blocking my view. He held my hands close to his chest—his heart.
I softened at his tender touch but refused to meet his gaze.
