In Flames - Elise Faber Page 0,33
quite the right frequency all day. And now suddenly with him in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, steadying her, they were fully in tune.
He was there and . . . it was fucking perfect.
“Hi,” she whispered, soaking up the gloriousness of being next to him, of the bond in her mind, of his pretty freaking face—
His lips quirked, a sliver of amusement skating through her mind.
“No cherry-picking my thoughts, Crumbles,” she muttered.
One brown brow lifted. “Crumbles?”
“Graham isn’t an easy name to come up with a nickname.” A shrug. “All I could think was cracker. But I can’t exactly call you that, can I?”
He snorted. “Not the most romantic of statements, that’s for sure.”
“So, Crumbles.” She shrugged.
His fingers trailed down her arm, laced with hers. “Not sure that’s the most romantic of statements either.”
“Want to tell me what Firefly means?” she asked, her body drifting closer. “Because that might convince me to keep pondering and to come up with something better.” She tapped her chin. “Like Pookey Bear.”
There was a flicker in her mind . . . something almost like embarrassment, but it was gone so quickly that she barely had time to process it. “I’ll stick with Crumbles.”
“I rather like Pookey Bear.”
He tsked. “Behave.”
Except, his hands had wrapped around her hips and were drawing her closer. Then closer still. Until she was pressed against his chest, all of those glorious muscles surrounding her.
“I think I like it when I don’t behave.”
“Yeah?” A bolt of wickedness sliding across their link. “Why’s that?”
“It gets me closer to you.”
Slow and sexy, that smile filled his face, made his eyes dance, brought him even closer—or at least, it brought his lips closer.
His body was already plastered against hers.
She curled her fingers into his shirt, clutching him to her. “We can go back inside and—”
Her stomach growled.
And in a millisecond, his mind changed. The waves of heat pulsing off his mind, sliding through hers, skating down her spine disappeared. In its place was frustration. No. Fury.
“When was the last time you ate?” he growled, stepping back and cupping her cheeks.
Since she was still reeling from the loss of contact, all she could say was, “What?”
“You’re starving,” he snapped. “I can feel it pulsing through your mind. Did you eat at all today?”
“I—”
She stopped. One, because her stomach growled again, and two . . . well, because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten.
“Suz.”
She jumped. “I—”
His eyes narrowed, and he was still scowling at her.
Yanking her head free, she did some glaring of her own. “Stop growling at me. The day was insane, and I—oh!”
Her words were cut off by him scooping her into his arms and carrying her down the hall.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“I’m feeding you.”
“Um, no, you’re carrying me,” she said. “Down the hall. Where anyone and everyone can see.”
“And?”
Sighing, she smacked him on the chest. “And I can walk. I have two feet and two legs, and if you just let me down I can—”
“Hush.”
Not spoken aloud.
Instead, it was in her mind.
And her initial reaction—pleasure at feeling him there—meant that she didn’t immediately struggle for him to put her down. Well, that and the fact that it felt really fucking good to be held by him.
“Put me down,” she muttered when she remembered herself. “Now.”
“I kind of like you here.”
“You’re going to kind of like my foot up your ass unless you put me down.”
“Yeah?” he asked, eyes dancing, amusement lacing his tone and mind. “You think you can take me on?”
“I know I can.”
A thumb brushing the inside of her arm, stroking across her bicep. “With these puny things?”
“Hey! They’re not puny.”
Just because they weren’t the tree trunks that were holding her didn’t mean she wasn’t strong. She lifted patients. She worked until most other Rengalla would pass out.
“No,” he said. “They’re perfect.” A beat, his voice in her mind. “Just like the rest of you.”
She laughed. “You can’t possibly mean that.”
“I mean it,” he whispered. “Perfect for me.”
“You can’t possibly mean that. It’s been like one day and—”
“Don’t.” He skidded to a stop, rubbed his nose to hers. “Don’t minimize what this is between us. Maybe it’s new. Maybe it’s just the potential of something. But I know”—he tapped her chest, just above her heart—“I know in here that if we play this right, if we both go for it, that this will be the best thing we can ever do for each other.”
Her pulse was pounding like heavy feet on the pavement. Thunk-thunk. Thunk-thunk.