Page 28 of Charmed

"I'd rather follow you there, personally." Banter aside, shame heated his cheeks. "Thanks, by the way. For understanding."

"My instincts have also amped to include having you in my vicinity. You're not the only one enhanced by the mark." With a smile, she closed her eyes. "You're human, Riley. Don't be embarrassed. We're a team. If you weren't affected by the attack tonight, then you'd have a right to humiliation."

He watched her a long beat, and warmth flooded him. Which had little to do with arousal and everything to do with... Hell if he knew. It wasn't unpleasant, though, and it caused his sinuses to sting.

Aside from his brothers, not a soul had genuinely accepted him the way he was, imperfections and all. Without explanation, she'd identified with him on a molecular level, ignored his flaws like they didn't exist, and was still here for the fallout.

He burrowed into the pillow and forced his eyes shut. All he could breathe was her scent. "It's a good thing you deemed this a one-time deal."

She hummed a sleepy sound. "Why's that?"

"Your hair takes up the whole bed."

Dozing off to the sultry sound of her laugh wasn't the worst thing in the world, he decided.

Chapter Eight

Before Fiona even roused to full consciousness, she became blaringly aware something was off. First, there was a solid arm wrapped around her from behind. Second, someone was spooning her. Spooning! And third, said someone had their face buried in her hair, ruffling the strands with each quiet exhalation.

She pried one eye open and glared in confusion at her fingers linked with a man's, resting together between her breasts. Even if she hadn't recognized his Irish pinkie ring or braided leather wrist band, she would've known on impact it was Riley in bed with her by his woodsy scent.

Geez, he was a hot, hard furnace. He trapped her to him in a fierce, protective cocoon of safety the likes of which had her head spinning. Snuggling. They were actually snuggling.

She didn't share a bed with her lovers—ever—and she certainly didn't leave herself vulnerable to sleeping with them. Not that she'd had sex with Riley. But that was semantics at this point.

Last she recalled, they'd drifted off with the width of the queen-size bed between them. How the hell had they wound up a tangled cluster of limbs or plastered to one another like Spanx? Worse, why did it not bother her?

Goddess, she really liked it. Liked being wrapped in his arms, waking up next to him, and knowing he was here. Liked it. A dangerous ball of happy grew and expanded in her belly, flaming her cheeks and stealing her breath.

Oh no. No, no, and no. This wouldn't do.

Carefully, she slid her hand from his and began the painstaking proposition of extracting herself from his embrace. An embarrassing morning-after, minus the orgasm. Suckage, right there. She got one leg out from under the covers when a latch clicked down the hall.

She froze. Cursing inwardly, she glanced at her own open door. Footsteps padded the hall, creaking the floorboards and, after a moment, Ceara passed right by Fiona's room.

She expelled a sigh of relief. Until Ceara halted, backtracked, and stood with bugging eyes at the threshold. Her jaw unhinged in an exaggerated cartoon expression of shock. She pointed at Fiona as if to say, Oh Goddess, look what you're doing.

Baring teeth, Fiona made a slashing motion, put her finger to her lips to shush her sister, and waved her away.

Slowly, Ceara shook her head and offered a pointed look. "We're going to talk," she mouthed, then disappeared once again.

Fiona sighed and took stock. No other sounds infiltrated the quiet morning. Sunlight filtered through her sheer curtains, but the rays were muted this early on the northern tip of the house. Riley hadn't moved, his breathing still deep and even.

Blessed be.

With great care, she lifted his hand, shifted from the mattress onto the floor, and gently set his arm on the sheets. Palms outstretched, she watched him from her knees, but he didn't stir. In fact, he seemed at peace for the first time in a long while.

It truly was a damn shame he was so handsome. Tilting her head, she studied him unbidden while she had the chance.

Like his brothers, he had an angular face that was all hard edges. Except his mouth. Those lips were full and incredibly talented when it came to kissing. A perpetual shadow of stubble dusted his jaw which he never seemed to shave and rarely grew beyond its current state. Probably some sort of male trick they all learned in college to get girls to swoon. Cautiously careless meets slightly dangerous.

They were closed now, but his eyes were a gray-green that lit with mischief as often as they narrowed in irritation. Usually because of her. His lashes were criminally long and black as the midnight strands on his head. She ran her gaze over the semi-long wavy locks, remembering how she'd fisted her hands there when he'd kissed her. She hated herself for wanting to do it again.

That was the thing about him, a glitch she couldn't sketch. He constantly put himself down as if he knew his lot in life was to stand in the background. He referred most of the decision making to the others, and all but had the moniker "beta" branded on his aura. Yet, when danger had presented itself, he'd shoved between her and the threat like his only choice had been to rescue. He'd obviously fought with himself to not act on his attraction, but when he'd hit his limit, he'd claimed her with no more or less than a kiss.

Just like that. Boom.

Another confounding element was the sheer contradiction. An arrogant part of her had always figured when or if he ever broke down and made a move, the attraction would die. For both of them. She'd get annoyed by his lack of gumption, as she had with all others of his species, and he'd realize the chase was more exciting than the catch.

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