Her words bounce around inside his head, and before he can talk himself out of it, he whispers, “There’s a simple solution if you feel overdressed.”
Her head snaps up. “Cerian!”
Perhaps he should have kept that thought to himself.
Then she pokes his bare chest. “You’d probably catch fire.”
Relief fills him at the smile on her face. “I’d definitely catch fire.”
Already, his fire magic is growing hotter.
“I love you,” she says. Without waiting for him to respond, she finds his lips, and he doesn’t even stop to think as he guides her on top of him.
“Your fire magic,” she whispers.
“Ignore it.”
She pulls back and frowns. “Ignore it? Ignore the part where you light the bed on fire?”
“My mother can put it out with her water magic.” He tugs Arisanna close again as she laughs, but she eagerly returns his kisses, and before he can temper his reaction, his hands take on a mind of their own. To his relief, she leans into his touch, but his control grows more tenuous by the moment.
Groaning, he pulls away. If only he really could ignore the fire threatening to engulf them both. It’s a little easier to control this morning, but his palms are tingling, and he doesn’t want to explain why their bed caught fire.
Not that his family couldn’t guess.
More to the point, he doesn’t want to hurt Arisanna.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “My...my magic—”
“Is amazing. Last night was amazing. You’re amazing.” She presses her lips to his cheek before rolling to the bed beside him. “We should check on Rominy and Elowyn, anyway. Face the hard parts during the day. Get lost in each other at night.”
Elowyn. Whistling wind.
Cerian bolts upright on the bed. “Where’s my shirt?”
“I think I laid it on the table last night. You forgot, didn’t you?” There’s no judgment in her voice. If anything, she seems happy, as if she’s glad she has that effect on him. Does she feel vulnerable, too? Perhaps he can reassure her.
“You’re beautiful,” he says softly. It was the first thing that popped into his head, and he cringes. He could have done better than that. “I...I like your hair.”
That wasn’t much better. He sounds like a half-grown elf barely coming into his magic. They experience their first joining, and he compliments her hair? He likes other parts of her even more.
None of those words seem eager to trip off his tongue, though—in Elvish or Nunian—and he groans. “I’m still not good at this.”
“At what?”
“At the thoughts. Putting my words into them.” He pauses and frowns. “I said that in the wrong order.”
“You’re doing fine. And I adore you.”
“I really just wanted to say that I...I want to get lost in you again soon. You’re amazing, too.”
He sends her a hesitant gaze, and her entire face lights up. Maybe he got it right that time.
“So do I,” she says as she trails her fingers down his cheek. “Soon. For now, though, there’s a hearth in here. Maybe let off some of your heat before we join the others?”
He probably should. Anyone who comes near him will feel the warmth radiating from his body.
Standing, he reaches for his leather shirt when Arisanna says, “The heat probably dissipates faster without it.”
