Impassion (Mystic) Read online

  “I can’t imagine what you have to be embarrassed about, so maybe you’ll feel better if you tell me what they are.”

  Layla had to steel herself to say it, and there was no way she’d be able to say it to his face, so she kept hers tucked away. “I’m embarrassed I moved your hand, and I’m embarrassed about the way my... the way I reacted. There,” she huffed, clutching his shirt. “I said it, and I’m still humiliated. I’m not that girl, Quin. I don’t pull guys’ hands to my tits and press my hips into them. I’ve never acted that way. Ever. It’s embarrassing.” No, saying it out loud hadn’t helped at all.

  He laughed as he nuzzled her hair. “The way you reacted wasn’t just a turn on, it was heavenly. I don’t want you to be embarrassed about those things, because I hope you’ll do them again next time.”

  With a few simple words, he’d somehow made her feel better. If he didn’t think she was some out of control floozy, she could accept what she’d done much easier. She released her death grip on his shirt and smiled up at him. “Next time, huh?” She didn’t want to wait for a next time. She wanted to do it again now.

  “Next time,” he confirmed, sliding a thumb to her lips. “Unless you want me to do things differently. If it really makes you uncomfortable to show me what you want, I could take the liberty, but then I run the risk of doing something you’re not ready for.”

  Unable to maintain eye contact, she looked down and nervously chewed her lip. “Like what? Sex?”

  “We’ve already determined you’re not ready for sex, but there are things we can do without crossing the finish line, and I’d be honored to do them.”

  She looked up and furrowed her eyebrows. “Doesn’t it bother you to take things so far without finishing them?”

  She thought there would be a hesitant moment of introspection, but he answered without pause, his tempting lips curving toward deep dimples. “I’ve discovered it bothers me in the most amazing way. I would do what we just did and more over and over again without a second of regret.”

  Layla didn’t understand how that could be true. She’d been around enough guys in high school to know they didn’t like getting shut out right before the big bang. Granted, Quin was twenty-two years old and a far cry from the boys she went to school with, but a man’s maturity level wasn’t the deciding factor of his sexual appetite. “Really?” she pressed.

  He laughed and raised his eyebrows. “Are you asking me to prove it?”

  Warmth flooded her cheeks, belly and thighs as she thought about him proving his willpower. “How would you do that?”

  “Hmm...” he murmured, moving his mouth to her neck, and it seemed like he stayed there forever. By the time he pulled away, her curiosity had reached its limit.

  “Are you tired?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered, trying to hide her impatience. “Why?”

  He searched her eyes then looked at what must have been her aura. When his gaze returned to hers, he slid one arm under her knees and tightened his grip. “Because I’m going to prove myself to you.” He stood and carried her to the bed. Then he settled in beside her and propped his head on one hand. “If you’ll let me.”

  Oxygen entered Layla’s lungs in quiet gasps, and she knew her rapid heartbeat must be visible to him. “I still don’t know how you intend to do that.”

  “I intend to show you,” he countered, resting his hand on her chest, “not tell you. Do you feel comfortable enough to let me?”

  Layla closed her eyes as she considered the situation. How much further could things go without going all the way? She was dying to find out, so she opened her eyes and answered. “Yes.”

  “Excellent,” he whispered, moving his hand to her cheek. “If I do something you’re uncomfortable with, you have to tell me. Okay?”

  She swallowed and gave a nod.

  “I need to hear you say it,” he stipulated. “Will you let me know if I make you uncomfortable?”

  “Yeah,” she managed, breathless and blushing.

  “Good,” he approved, “because that’s the last thing I want to do.” His fingers slid from her cheek to her trembling lips. “Now, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Favor?” she breathed, trying to hold still, but vibrations shook her from the inside out.

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “I want you to remember there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I know it won’t go away completely, but try not to let it stop you from taking what you want.”

  “I’ll try,” she squeaked.

  “That’s all I ask,” he replied, scanning the air around her. Then he smiled as he found her eyes. “My questions are done now. No more asking for permission. I’m going to do what I want, and if you don’t like it, you’re going to have to tell me.”

  She nodded as a shudder rocked her body. Just the thought of him doing what he wanted with her had her hips twitching like mad. When did she become so damn libidinous?

  His satisfied smile stayed in place as he leaned close, perching his lips on hers. Then he softly kissed before pulling away. When his hand left her face, his t-shirt disappeared.

  Layla flinched and blinked. Then she laughed as she rolled her eyes at herself. “That’s convenient.”

  She looked at his exposed torso, and the next thing she knew, her fingers were on his ridged abdomen, like they had a mind of their own and were determined to explore every groove. She’d known he was muscular, but seeing him shirtless was like the unveiling of Michelangelo’s David, only way better, because Quin’s bronze skin felt nothing like cold, uninviting stone. Warm and smooth, it stretched over immaculate angles, tempting her to cuddle him like she would a fuzzy pillow or a furry kitten. He was beyond perfect, and she felt quite blessed her sense of touch was alive and well.

  As she ran a fingernail along the defined indentation below his abs, a chill swept over her, and she looked down, gasping at her bare breasts. Her tank top was gone! She was shirtless!

  She frantically tried to hide herself, but folding so soon wasn’t on Quin’s agenda. He grabbed her wrists then stretched them over her head, watching her face and aura to make sure she wasn’t scared. She was embarrassed and insecure, with flaming cheeks and lips, and round eyes bigger than he’d ever seen them, but she didn’t fear his actions, only his gaze.

  Keeping her wrists in one hand, he slid the other to her flushed cheek. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Layla. You have a beautiful body.” What he’d seen of it was beyond beautiful; it was flawless, but telling her so would only brighten her blush.

  She swallowed and fidgeted, but she didn’t fight his hold on her wrists or ask him to cover her up. Instead, she closed her eyes and forced herself to hold still.

  Quin smiled as he glanced at her aura. Then he let his gaze roam to her chest. He’d never seen a more perfect pair of breasts, and his years of experience with beautiful women suddenly seemed inadequate. None of them could have prepared him for Layla. She was on an entirely different level than his previous lovers, and for a tiny second, he doubted his ability to step that high. His determination, however, was unwavering.

  He didn’t want to startle her, so he maintained skin contact as he moved his hand from her pink cheek to a nipple of the same color. It puckered under his thumb, and his heart stuttered as he bowed his head, flattening his tongue over textured flesh. Her chest fell as her lungs deflated, and he followed it down, dipping his tongue into the warm cleft between her breasts. As his taste buds ascended supple skin, seizing her other nipple, she arched, flooding his senses with her sweet scent. Her wrists wiggled, trying to escape, so he let go, hoping like hell she wouldn’t push him away.

  She didn’t push him away, but pulled him nearer, diving her fingers into his hair and filling his mouth with billowy flesh. More thankful than he’d ever been, Quin groaned and scooted closer, cupping h
er breasts in both palms. His muscles were achingly tight, but the burn was a small price to pay to indulge in her ambrosia.

  Her grip eventually eased as one of her hands slid to his shoulder, flexing in time with her quiet gasps, so he let her nipple slip from his lips, nuzzling it with his nose while she caught her breath.

  He looked up, taking a moment to scan her aura. Then he found her face. Her eyes remained closed, but he could tell she was ready for more, and he was ready to give it to her. He took a calming breath, making sure his body and mind were ready for a dose of raging temptation. Then he turned his anxious gaze to her skirt.

  The waistband stretched from one hip bone to the other, smiling below her cute bellybutton, which was framed by lean abs and a tiny waist. The view was amazing, but not what he was looking for, so he vanished the skirt, revealing white cotton panties that were innocently modest yet sexier than hell.

  She didn’t struggle or tense, which told him she didn’t know her skirt was gone, and he had no plans to bring it to her attention. She would figure it out soon enough.

  He took his time scanning her lithe legs and curvy hips, yearning to run his hands from her toes to her nose, but he wouldn’t get the opportunity tonight. She was far too insecure to feel comfortable with it and would spend more time worrying about what she looked like than how she felt. He would relieve her worries soon enough, and honestly so, for every inch of her was flawless. Toned muscle rolled beneath incredibly smooth skin, following a petite frame angled in all the right places. She was shapely yet tiny, and so dainty in comparison to him he feared he might break her if he wasn’t watchful of his force.

  He slid his hand from her cheek to the side of her neck, curving his thumb over her jaw, and his other hand left her breasts, drifting toward the only article of clothing she had left. He had no intention of sending the underwear away. He wanted them to stay, and what he planned to do could be worked around them. Or, to be precise, under them. Eventually, if hope prevailed, he’d get his chance with her sans panties, but he’d save that hurdle for a later date.

  He slid his fingertips over thin cotton. Then he squeezed her inner thigh as he parted her legs. Her muscles twitched, but she didn’t fight his pull, so he retraced his path to the top hem of her panties. After throwing one more glance at her face, he let his fingers slip beneath the veil.

  His invisible lines were gone now, and his heart thundered at the prospect of feeling past them. Her fingernails dipped into his shoulder, propelling a tingling jolt down his spine, and he took a deep breath, determined not to cross the line too quickly. He didn’t want any of this to pass quickly. In fact, he wouldn’t mind watching it play out in slow motion.

  He reached unexplored territory and sucked in a lung-bursting gulp of air, muscles rigid, veins pulsing. She was as smooth there as she was everywhere else—another first for him—and it provoked an astounding wave of desire. He’d never known what he was missing and never imagined it could make that big of a difference. He wanted to see, but refused to push his extraordinary luck, so he closed his eyes, opening his sense of touch to the enthralling path paving his way.

  Already lost in longing, Layla barely retained enough sense to hold still and let Quin take the time he wanted. Her control had sprung a leak and would soon succumb to the thrilling current electrifying her blood stream. He was so close to sliding his fingers where no one’s fingers had ever been, and she was ready for him to take the liberty and run with it.

  Quin was almost there. He could feel the heat radiating from his goal, the humidity growing thicker as he gained ground. Her arousal swelled beneath the tip of his middle finger, and he lowered his mouth to one of her nipples, sucking it in as he found feather soft folds of moist flesh. They parted around his knuckles as his forefinger advanced and curled, slowly dipping into her body, but it was immediately rejected by flexing muscles. Damn, she was tight, tighter than any woman before her.

  He looked down and rested his cheek on her heaving cleavage, wondering if he needed to desensitize her, but asking her permission would humiliate her, and doing it without permission was out of the question.

  He tried again, curling one finger into her body, and this time he held firm, letting her tighten around him. Once the pressure peaked and receded, he slowly delved deeper, intensely concentrating as he searched for her hymen. But there wasn’t one to find, only sensitive flesh that hadn’t been touched in far too long.

  He retreated before carefully forcing his way back in, and her hips jolted as her squeak pierced the silent room. He glanced at her face, worried he’d hurt her, but her expression held no pain. Only the look of a woman drowning in desire with no idea how she’d fallen in. Anxious to save her, he looked back down, curling his tongue around her nipple while loosening her up.

  She wiggled and stretched then wiggled again, and he finally found clearance, gliding inside her with ease. He withdrew, using all four fingers to moisten his reentry. Then two of his fingers maneuvered inside, crossing at the knuckles as she tensed. He forced them apart, firmly keeping them in place while waiting for the flexing to stop. Then he pulled free before filling her back up. Her control broke right when he expected it to, and she bent her knees and raised her hips, deepening his reaching fingers.

  Oh god. Layla was gone and didn’t think she’d ever find her way back. Nothing in her life had compared to this, and she was pretty sure nothing ever would again. Her hands got lost in his hair as her hips rose again and again. She couldn’t hold still. She couldn’t think straight. Jolting, flexing and curling, she bit her lip and tilted her head back, strangling whatever sounds burst from her pressurized diaphragm.

  Fearing she might rip out his hair, she gripped the blankets instead, pulling one corner from the mattress as the intensity increased. With each breath, she burned hotter, goose bumps claiming every inch of flesh as bright spots flashed over her eyelids. His slick thumb wreaked havoc on the outside while his fingers inflicted chaos on the inside, and she had no idea her breasts could feel such extreme pleasure. Her breaths came faster, accompanied by tiny squeaks she couldn’t contain, and her heart beat so hard she feared it might burst through her ribs and slap his handsome face.

  Just when she didn’t think she could withstand one more second of the exquisite fire, a rush of warm tingles tightened her core then flooded her extremities, exploding from her throat with a breathy moan. For several splendid seconds she quaked around his busy hand, her mind caught in a whirlwind of sensitive nerve endings and heightened emotion. Then his titillating advances softened, letting her melt into the bed.

  Struggling to keep his breathing even, Quin rested his forehead on one of her breasts as his mouth steamed up the other. She pulsed around his fingers, but her body was languid and had been for several seconds, so he slowly pulled his hand from between her legs while vanishing the moisture he was dying to taste. He probably could have gotten away with it—licked his fingers clean without her knowledge—but that might have pushed him past the point of no return.

  He took a deep breath, finally feeling a dip in his heart rate. Then he trailed his tongue from one nipple to the other, memorizing every element of her flavor. He wanted to spend the entire night with his face buried between her breasts, but he couldn’t ask for more than she’d already given him, so he left her chest and lay beside her.

  Her fingers were tangled in the blankets, her eyes remained closed, and her lips trembled over short gasps. He laid a hand over her thundering heart, but stayed quiet, basking in her reaction to his touch. She was stunning, lying there spent and fulfilled, and her aura—already the biggest and brightest he’d seen—covered a larger area than usual.

  He imagined joining her in the afterglow of ecstasy, and his blood hotly charged through stretched veins. Making love to her would take him higher than he ever dreamed of going, and every part of him longed for the journey, but until the
n, he could do this everyday and not get bored or grow resentful. Bringing her to this point had been the most fulfilling achievement of his life.

  Her breathing slowed, and he figured she’d soon open her eyes, so he magically replaced her clothes, unwilling to ruin the moment by embarrassing her. He scooted closer, touching his lips to her cheek, but then she rolled onto her side and breathed his name into his mouth.

  He slid one arm under her pillow, hugging her close while giving her a kiss. Then he tucked her face into his neck, thinking she’d find it easier to open her eyes if she didn’t have to look at him.

  He played with her hair while waiting for her to collect herself, but after twenty minutes of silence, he looked down to find her aura and body peacefully still. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, and that was fine by him. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.

  He nuzzled her hair, filling his lungs with her floral scent. Then he sighed and closed his eyes, shutting out the rapturous evening so he could relax and fall asleep.

  Chapter 8

  There was a saying where the stranger came from—hexless women are three things: easy to get in; easy to get off; and a bitch to get rid of. The first two had proved true. Now, as he awoke in the suite of a Portland hotel, finding Chelsea’s starry-eyed gaze, he feared the third adage would ring true as well.

  “It’s never been that way,” she whispered.

  He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he sat up on the side of the bed and reached for his pants. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” A proper romp was the least he could give her after sending her boyfriend to the emergency room. Besides, blowing Chelsea’s mind gave him a chance to magically probe it for information regarding Layla. Unfortunately, the receptionist didn’t know shit and had only seen Layla once—the night she checked in.