She chuckled, then tossed back the quilt. "In. "
"Yes, ma'am. "
Before he could twitch off the towel, she did it for him. But when he grabbed for her, she evaded, then gave him a nudge onto the bed.
"You may know," she began and, picking up matches, walked around the room lighting candles, "that in lore and legend witches often served as healers. "
Candlelight swayed, and it shimmered. "I'm starting to feel really healthy. "
"I'll be the judge of that. "
"I'm counting on it. "
She turned to him. "Do you know what I've never done for anyone?"
"No, but I'm riveted. "
She slowly lifted the hem of her sweater. She remembered the day she'd stood, poised like this, on the sunny back of his inlet.
"I want you to watch me. " Inch by inch, she peeled the sweater up her body. "And want me. "
If he'd been struck blind, he would have seen her, skin glowing in delicate light.
She slipped out of her shoes in a kind of graceful dance. Her simple white bra cut low and sweet over the subtle curve of her breasts. She lifted her hand to the center clasp, wat
ched his eyes follow the move, then she deliberately left it fastened and trailed her fingertips down her midriff to the hook of her slacks.
His pulse began to thrum as the fabric slithered over her hips, down her legs. When it pooled at her feet, she stepped out with that same fluid ease.
"Why don't you let me do the rest?"
Her lips curved and she stepped closer, but not close enough. She'd never set out to seduce a man before, and wasn't ready to surrender the power.
She could imagine his hands on her as she ran her own up her body, as his breath rushed out of his lungs.
With that faint and knowing smile on her face, she flicked open her bra, let it slide away. Her breasts already felt full, and tender. She peeled the panties over her hips, stepped free of them. She was already wet.
"I want to take you," she whispered. "Slowly. I want you to take me. " She eased onto the bed on hands and knees to straddle him. "Slowly. " She seemed to melt over him. "As if there'll never be an end to it. "
Her lips were warm and soft on his. Seeking. The taste of him slid through her system like a drug. When he rolled to take more, to deepen it, she went with him. But not in surrender.
She ran her fingertips lightly up and down his back, finding pleasure in the ridge of muscle, the ripple of it as she aroused him.
She let herself float on sensation as he gave her, and took from her, the gradual glide she'd demanded. Candlelight shifted, then the flames ran straight and true as spears and filled the air with fragrance.
They rose together, danced on that scented air. They knelt on the bed, centered on it, torso to torso and mouth to mouth.
If it was a spell, he'd have stayed bound eternally without question, without struggle. Witch or woman, a blend of both, she was his.
He watched the way his hand looked against her skin, dark to light, rough to fragile. The way her breasts could be cupped in his palms, and how the tips hardened under the brush of his thumb.
They touched, and tasted. A brush, a sip, a lazy caress, a long, slow drink.
When at last he slipped inside her, the gentle rise and fall was like waves of silk. Magic shimmered as they watched each other, as for each, for that moment, no one else existed. Beat to beat, with an intimacy that was more than mating, that abounded past needs and outraced passion.
It welled in her heart, overflowed in a spill like gold.
Her lips curved again as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their hands joined, fingers linking as they slid off the world together.
***
When she lay curled to his side, her palm over the steady beat of his heart, it seemed nothing could touch them. Her haven, she thought, was safe, as they were safe inside it.
All of her fears and worries, that creeping dread, seemed foolish now.
They were simply a man and a woman in love, lying in a warm bed and listening to the last of a storm pass overhead.
"I wonder if I'll ever learn how to manipulate objects. "
"Honey, you manipulate just fine," he chuckled.
"No. " She gave him a playful slap. "I mean moving things from one point to another. If I could, I'd chant the proper incantation and so on, and we'd have chicken soup in bed. "
"It doesn't work like that. Does it?" he asked.
"I bet it does for Mia, if she wants it enough. But for lowly students such as me, it takes getting up, going into the kitchen and doing it all the old-fashioned way. "
She turned her head to give his shoulder a pecking kiss, then rolled away.
"Why don't you stay here and I'll get the soup?"
She tossed a look over her shoulder as she walked to the closet for the robe she'd finally gotten around to buying. "Clever of you to suggest that after I was already up. "
"I thought so. And since you caught me, I'll throw some clothes on and come out and give you a hand. "
"Fine. Bring out that wet heap in the bathroom while you're at it. "
Wet heap? It took him a minute to remember, so she was already out of the room when he leaped out of bed and snatched up his sodden pants from the floor. Digging in the pocket, he let out a breath as his fingers closed around a small box.
She had a round loaf of bread on a cutting board and was ladling up wide bowls of soup when he came in. She looked so pretty, so at home in her soft pink robe, he thought, her feet bare, her hair a little mussed.
"Nell, why don't we let that cool a minute?"
"We'll need to. Do you want some wine?"
"In a minute. " Odd, he thought he'd be nervous, at least a little. Instead he was rock calm. He laid his hands on her shoulders, turned her, then ran them down to her elbows. "I love you, Nell. "
"I-"