100% That Witch - Celia Kyle Page 0,54

her eyes off him as he set about building a fire in the stone fireplace. His big thighs bunched when he kneeled to collect kindling, his broad back rippled under his flannel shirt as he built a little cone with the thin pieces of wood and then lit the crumpled paper under it. He was a work of art that she wanted to thoroughly appraise, but he wasn’t hers to touch. When a low crackle emerged from the hearth, he glanced at her over his shoulder, sending little sizzles down every nerve fiber. At that precise moment, the first patter of rain echoed on the roof.

“Why don’t you grab those books and come over to the couch? We won’t get as much benefit from the fire way over there at the table.”

Tiffany swallowed hard, unsure anything she said would sound normal, so she kept her mouth shut. The thought of snuggling next to him as they watched the fire danced behind her eyelids, but she blinked it away as she gathered up the books with shaking hands. The table allowed for more space to spread out and to keep her distance from him. This wasn’t going to be easy.

They settled onto the small couch, and it was even more dangerously romantic than she had feared. The intensity of the storm swelled around them, sharpening the senses. The delicious sharpness came with heavy rain cleansed the air, and she felt a perilous pull toward the vampire next to her.

Her breaths were high and short, and she almost flattered herself that his was too. But that couldn’t be. Nero had said quite plainly he had a Beloved, so that was that. Wasn’t it?

“Tiffany?”

“Yes?”

She turned to face him slowly, meeting the intensity of his dark gaze with a gasp. Nestled in the thicket of his beard, his full lips almost seemed to tremble, as though words were poised on them that couldn’t quite shake themselves free.

With a terrifying crash, the windows went a dazzling, piercing white, and every light in the cabin went out except for the fire at their feet. The tension between them erupted from her lips in a squeaky cry, and she lurched toward Nero, clutching at his shirt.

Her entire body trembled, and most of it wasn’t from the frightening lightning strike. Nero’s spicy scent combined with the smell of the fire, leaving her almost dizzy. Releasing the fistfuls of fabric, she let her fingers splay across his chest for a moment before pushing against him to put some room between them.

“Sorry,” she said in a breathy laugh, heat rushing to her face... and other places.

“Don’t be.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but his voice held the same husky quality her own did. If she didn’t know better, she might have thought he was as caught up by it all as she was.

But that was impossible. He was taken. She would be a fool to let any other fantasies creep in around her. It was one thing to indulge in the safety of her own room, but to give over to them in his space was stupidity of the first order.

“Well, shit,” he said, looking around the dark room painted with the orange flickers of firelight.

“What?” He swore so rarely, she found herself oddly titillated by it. He reached into her lap and scooped the books away, and her skin quivered as the backs of his fingers brushed her thigh.

“There’s no way we’ll be able to read with no light. We’d make ourselves blind huddled over them.”

“Oh.” At first she was overcome by images of them snuggling together trying to read a book, but then she realized he must be trying to politely tell her to leave. Suddenly feeling a tiny bit foolish, Tiffany scooted forward a bit. “I should probably go then.”

“In this? Are you nuts?” The rain battered the roof, and another searing burst of white lit up the windows, followed by a crackling peal of thunder.

“I guess you’re right.” Laughing through her nerves, she settled back into the sofa, feeling the radiating heat of his nearness. At least he wasn’t actively kicking her out.

A new kind of quiet fell around them. Whenever she was with Nero, silence felt like something they could sit in. As comfortable and familiar as the thickly knit sweaters he always wore.

This one was different.

It was thick. Bristling with what felt a helluva lot like possibility.

Finally daring to face him again, she found him studying her. Those warm brown eyes were cast in shadow,