Page 59 of Charmed

"So did I." She ached in places she didn't know she had as proof.

"I'd like to do it again, and often."

"I can get onboard with that." Yes, please. He was an attentive lover with amazing stamina. Not to mention, there was a crazy connection between them. Trust, she supposed. It had allowed her to escape into the act in a way she'd not permitted herself before.

"I'm not just referring to sex." He swallowed as if nervous, his gaze solemn. "I meant being with you, how we talked afterward."

Oh, that. Well, she had no excuse or explanation for her candidness. They hadn't gone Freud on one another, but there had been a certain openness. She glanced away, her belly clenching. Nerves danced in her chest and she squirmed, wanting to retreat as far as possible from the direction this conversation was heading.

"Ah-ah. Don't put your shield back up. We're simply having a chat. Where do we stand, Fi? I'd like to know."

"At the moment? In your kitchen."

He cursed and glanced heavenward. "Fi, I..." He grunted and quickly jerked his attention to his arm, rubbing the trinity knot tattoo on his inner wrist. "It's burning."

"What?" She took his hand, finding redness around the black design. "The skin is irritated." The same thing had happened when Kaida or Brady were in physical danger during their turn at the curse. An early warning sign, of sorts. "Do you think your uncle is here?"

Distracted, he shook his head. "The place is locked up tight with a state of the art security system. Alarms aren't going off. Besides, Ceara charmed the mansion with protection spells."

And nothing would get past her sister's ward. Fiona frowned, looking at her mark. "Mine is fine. It doesn't hurt or anything. Wonder what's going on?"

"I don't have a clue, but the pain's gone now. It didn't last long. Maybe my tattoo is defective. Anyway, back to the matter at hand." He cleared his throat, gaze trained on her lap. "Last night meant something to me. You mean something to me." When he met her eyes once more, there were traces of the lost boy he used to be, attempting to acquire acceptance or affection in any form possible, and it was utterly gutting. "Am I alone here?"

Dang it. He had her by the jugular.

"No, you're not alone. You mean something to me, too." How much and how intensely was becoming problematic. Relationships and emotions were not her area of expertise, and it's not as if either of their families have had success in the romance department.

"Let's try a different tactic, then."

He grabbed her hips and pulled her flush against him. She gasped, but his hands were already in her hair, fingertips on her scalp. He sealed his mouth over hers and pried her lips apart with his own, demanding entrance with a cajolingly sensitive sweep of his tongue. Exploring. Testing. He all but made love to her through a kiss, eroding boundaries and invoking sentiment where mere passion should've been.

Dizzy, sinking fast, she clutched his shoulders. She arched into him, only to be met by the hard wall of his chest and the heat of his skin. He held her immobile, cradled her body against his, and took from her. Just kept taking. More than she had any power to give.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he panted, eyes tightly shut. "You feel that, babe? Not here." He placed his hand low on her abdomen, then set it on her chest, splaying his fingers. "Here. Feel it? I do. It's stronger than attraction. We're not just physical." He opened his eyes, jaw set, and brushed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. "We are in a relationship and we are going to see where it leads. Deal with it."

Abruptly, he stepped away, and she reeled.

He strode out of the room, leaving her sitting on the island wondering what the actual heck had happened. She blinked, staring off into space and trying to get her bearings while clutching the edge of the counter for all she was worth.

Had he...? No.

Yes, he had. He'd put his foot down and told her what to do. Zero discussion. Zero input about what she wanted.

The nerve! The gall!

Dang it. And it had been sexy. Really, really sexy. All alpha and bossy and staking a claim.

Goddess, she was in trouble. Huge trouble. Quicksand with no rope kind of trouble.

Screeching, she slid off the counter and balled her fists. She stomped her foot like an intolerant child as her temples throbbed and her molars gnashed.

This. Was. Not. Happening.

Tristan and her sister walked in. The door hadn't closed behind them, and Ceara fell back against him like she'd been shoved by an unseen force, palm on her forehead.

He frowned, holding her up by the arms. "What's wrong?"

"Uh-oh. She's furious." Cautious eyes dazedly searched the room and found Fiona's. "Rein in your wrath, sister. It's too much." Ceara slumped. "I can't...I can't..."

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