Page 27 of Charmed

She'd been right about one thing. She had kissed him back. That part was etched deep in his cerebral cortex. As was the semi-hard state he was still in, thanks to just how strongly she'd responded. Then again, that wasn't news. More like a reissued backlog.

He'd had passion and he'd had his share of lovers. But he'd never been decimated by a kiss. She'd sent every fantasy he'd dreamed up into the ether. If given the chance, he might've taken her right on her kitchen island next to the fruit bowl. It was a miracle he'd mustered the will to pull back, considering. The last thing he needed was her yanking him around by the balls to boot.

Staring into space, it didn't take long for his thoughts to shift. His uncle and the vial. Her lying motionless. The scream, that God-awful scream that had pierced his chest when she'd awoken. The abject terror in her eyes which had carved a hole in his gut.

Forty-five minutes shaved off his life he'd never get back. He'd remember it in his nightmares the next forty-five years.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he attempted to ignore the itch under his skin and the cold dread swimming in his veins. She was right down the hall, for christsakes. Breathing, probably plotting, and with a beat in her heart. Not unconscious, or worse. She was alive.

He dropped his gaze to the trinity knot tattoo on his inner wrist, running his thumb over the black lines. It didn’t burn in warning, but that unmistakable urge to be near her wouldn't abate.

Brady and Kaida had mentioned a similar experience, but they'd known one another longer and had a connection. Riley was beginning to wonder if his need to be at Fiona's side wasn't an effect of the mark. He'd assumed his restlessness had been due to the frightening events. Maybe he'd been wrong. Or it could be one element of many.

A sigh, and he stood. He'd just check on her, then try to crash. Problem solved.

Except when he got to the open doorway of her room, he leaned against the jamb instead of doing a quick scan, and the ache behind his ribs grew more fierce.

She was already in bed, curled on her side facing the entryway. A mound of blankets was tucked under her chin, her hair was spread around the pillow, and her features were relaxed. The room was dark, save for the moonlight streaming through the window. It cast her skin in ethereal tones and he wanted to skim his fingers across her cheek to not only ensure she was warm to the touch, but because he enjoyed the petal softness.

He'd been shocked earlier in the kitchen by just how soft. Everywhere, in fact. Her lips, her exhalations, her body, and her skin. Everywhere, soft. And pliant. Tough as she appeared, she was just a woman, after all.

"What's wrong now?"

Swallowing, he gazed at his feet. Figured she'd catch him in the act. "Instinct is telling me to keep you in sight."

She rose on her elbow. "I thought we established I was fine."

"I thought we established that I wasn't."

Her lips pursed. "So, what is your plan? To watch me while I sleep?"

Pretty much. "Maybe."

"Because that's not creepy."

Unbidden, his lips curved. Never a dull moment with her. "I thought females found that sort of thing romantic."

Up went her brows. "If they're into serial killers, sure. Are you trying to be romantic? Flowers and my enemy's head on a pike do it for me."

A rough laugh burst from him before he realized she'd accomplished the impossible feat of settling his nerves. "I'll see what I can do about that come daylight."

She sat up, and the sheets settled in her lap to reveal a purple lace nightgown that barely covered the swells of her ample breasts.

He glanced around, attempting to focus on anything but her and the filthy things he wanted to do. All night long. His gaze landed on a bureau. "Nice chest."

Innuendo 101, at her service.

Smiling, she gazed at the bureau, then down at herself. Without a word, she flipped aside a corner of the blankets by way of invitation.

His lungs collapsed.

"Sleep only. Clothes stay on. Hands to yourself. One-time deal." When he didn't move, she crooked her finger. "Come on. While I'm young."

Rare moments like these where she exposed the compassionate, gentle part of her personality was akin to a bitch slap wielded by an iron fist. He knew she cared, had shown it countless times with her sisters and, more subtly, with his brothers. But her offering to share her bed because his synapses were out of commission? Simply because he needed a connection? How the hell was a guy supposed to defend himself against that?

He toed off his shoes and strode toward the other side of the bed. "The hands to myself rule would go more smoothly if you were wearing something less revealing. Just sayin'. I'm only a man, Fi." He climbed in, giving her a wide berth.

She rolled to face him and yawned. "Lead me not into temptation."

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