I kissed her slowly, savoring every second. Her mouth was warm and willing beneath mine, her body soft and pliant as she melted into my embrace. This was wonderful. She was wonderful. The way she sighed against my lips, the contented sounds she made when I traced the edge of her lower lip with my tongue.
I slid my palm around to the bare skin of her back beneath her sleep shirt, and she arched into my touch with a soft gasp that made my blood sing. Every nerve in my body was focused on the places where we touched, from her hand on my chest, her legs tangled with mine, to the sweet pressure of her mouth.
“Hail.” She breathed my name against my lips, and I nearly lost all control right there.
I wanted more. Everything. But this morning kiss felt sacred somehow, a promise of what we could build together if she chose to stay. So I kept it gentle, pouring all my love into the slow dance of our mouths.
We parted gradually, sharing smiles that felt intimate and new. Her eyes were soft and sleepy, her lips pink from our kisses.I wanted to capture this moment forever, especially the trust in her expression as she looked at me.
“So what’s our…our…our plan for today?” I asked, reluctant to break the peaceful mood we’d created.
“How about pottery?” She stretched like a cat, and I had to work not to stare at the way her shirt rode up, revealing a tantalizing strip of skin. “I want to learn more wheel techniques.”
All I wanted to do was to stay in bed with her forever, mapping every freckle on her shoulders with my lips.
After breakfast of scrambled chumble eggs that she declared were her new favorite and thick slices of Sel’s bread slathered with kythara jam, we rode Calli into town, bringing her to a halt in full public view outside the pottery barn. The morning felt different than usual, charged with tension that had little to do with romance and everything to do with the knowledge that dangerous people were hunting Allie.
But it was also charged with the intimacy of our morning kiss, the way her hand had lingered on mine when I helped her down from Calli, the soft looks she kept shooting my way when she thought I wasn’t watching.
That’s when she saw the sign Dungar had posted on the barn door.
Pottery Demonstrations Closed Indefinitely - Private Classes by Appointment Only.
Her face fell, and guilt crept into her expression. “You’re doing this because of me.”
“Because we’re being smart.” I tacked the sign to the front door, hating how disappointed she looked. “Tourist safety is important. And so is yours.”
As if she understood how urgent this situation was, Tressa trotted outside and positioned herself in front of the barn doorslike a furry sentinel, her ears swiveling at every sound from the street.
“I hate that I’m ruining your business,” Allie said, touching one of the pottery wheels.
“You’re not ruining anything.” I locked the door and turned back to her, needing her to understand. “You’re…you’re making everything better.”
She raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear in her voice. “Even with armed criminals hunting me?”
“Even then.”
The truth of it surprised me. Despite the danger, despite the fear and the disrupted routine, having Allie here felt right. She belonged in this barn, belonged in my life, belonged with me. The criminal threat was temporary, but what we were building together could last forever.
She settled at a pottery wheel with a sly look and a graceful movement that made my mouth go dry. “We’ll have to keep busy, then. Teacher, what are we learning today?”
“Wheel techniques.” I gathered fresh clay and water, my hands already anticipating the lesson ahead. “You’ve mastered the ba-ba-basics. Time for the fun part.”
I pulled up a stool behind her, close enough that my chest pressed against her back. The position was intimate by necessity. Proper wheel work required precise hand placement and steady pressure. At least, that’s what I told myself as I breathed in the scent of her hair.
“Like this,” I said, wrapping my arms around her to cover her hands with mine on the clay.
The spinning wheel hummed, a familiar sound that usually calmed me. Today, it only heightened my awareness of every point where our bodies touched. Allie leaned back against my chest, trusting me to guide her movements. It was all I could do to keep my hands from shaking.
“Feel how the clay responds to gentle pressure?” I asked, helping her shape the walls of what would become a bowl.
“I do, Hail.” Her voice sounded breathless. “I feel it.”
The clay rose smooth and even beneath our joined hands, but I was barely paying attention to the pottery. All my focus was on the female in my arms, the way she shivered when my breath stirred her hair, and the small sound she made as she worked to master the technique.
I couldn’t resist. My lips found the curve of her neck, where I pressed a soft kiss to the sensitive skin below her ear. She tasted like everything good in the world.
“Hail,” she whispered.
