“Aspen,” I correct him.
“Yeah, Mr.Telluride.” He snorts.
“Monsieur Beaver Creek,” I say.
“Jackson Asshole.” He laughs.
Then we’re both laughing.
He drags his hand through his hair again, an endearing nervous habit. “I don’t want to be jealous, but I can’t help it.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think she cares about Aspen.” I try not to giggle. “You know she’s always preferred Deer Valley.”
Dorian swallows, nodding as his aura turns pink, indicating embarrassment, perhaps. I’m never certain.
“Maybe you just need practice,” I say, trying to be helpful. “Right now, you don’t know what will happen if you touch someone, but maybe, with some experience, you can learn to control it. Perhaps it’s time to stop lettingitcontrol you.”
He runs his hand through his hair again, and it makes me crazy with desire.Iwant to do that to his hair. And I wish he would just give up on Raven, since I’m right here.
“Why don’t you just try?” I ask, offering my open palm. “When’s the last time someone held your hand, not just your glove?”
A twitch shivers through Dorian’s lips, and he tries to hide it with a smile. “You really want to?” he asks.
Yes, yes, yes,I think. “Why not?” I say.
“Because it’s…Are you sure?” he asks.
“Sure as sin.”
“If we touch, I’m just worried I won’t be able to stop what’s happening. I can’t seem to end the visions once they start…”
“So don’t try to stop it. Are you afraid of what you might see in me?” I prompt.
He swallows again. “You aren’t worried? You don’t care if I know everything?”
“I have nothing to hide. Besides, if it doesn’t work, well then…there are worse things that can happen.” I don’t want to hide my feelings for him anymore. I am tired of hiding. I squeeze my hand on his, feeling the warmth of the leather. His fingers squeeze mine, a gentle assurance. Heat rushes to my face. Slowly, I tug on his glove, pinching the tip of it with my fingers. He lets me take it off, and it falls to the floor.
All it takes is a touch. Just one.
His bare hand slides up my arm, slowly at first, and then he’s touching my face, touching my cheek with the tips of his fingers, so light it sends goose bumps down my throat. His fingers are warm and soft.
“Okay?” I whisper.
He nods.
So I grab his hand, holding it tight. I guide him, pressing his palm solidly against my cheek, letting his fingers dig into the back of my head. His touch sends ripples through my body. I can’t breathe.
He frowns, and I feel it, a tension, a buzzing in the air not unlike the coming of a storm. The air around us is electric. He doesn’t say it; he doesn’t have to.
I can hear the words pouring out of him. My magic, it’s piercing his mind. Instead of simply feeling his emotions, I can hear his thoughts as well. And what does he see? What does he know of mine?
His inner dialogue cuts in and out, but it’s his voice. I’d know it anywhere.His skin is so soft. I wonder what it’s like to kiss…Kiss…Do it…Should I?
He wants to kiss me? My pulse races with excitement. His hand is still on my face. I move closer, and to my relief, he doesn’t moveaway. But the longer he looks at me, the more his aura swirls with pink. Orange and pink like the setting sun, vibrant and demanding to be observed.
He wants me.
His desire is tangible. My heartbeat thrums. This is so new, so exhilarating. He’s so close, I don’t want to move.
