But Arthur’s eyes lit with pleasure. “Oh, that’s enchanting too.” The arm around Rory’s waist tightened to tug him closer. “You trying to make sure I don’t let you out of this bed?”
More of their skin came into contact, sending electric sparks across Rory. “Why would I want you to?”
“Because you’re too sore for round two.”
Rory squirmed even closer, intertwining his legs with Arthur’s longer ones. Hewassore, in new and interesting ways. It wasn’t a deterrent. “Wouldn’t it be round three?”
“Now you’re making my point for me. Someone’s got to put your well-being first, and it’s clearly not going to be you.”
But Arthur seemed reluctant to let him go, and it wasn’t like Rory was gonna move away first. He traced his finger along a scar on one strong shoulder, gaze dropping to the handful of scars across Arthur’s chest, scars from a war he wanted to protect Rory from seeing. How’d Rory snag a man like this? For once, his heart, body, and mind were in complete agreement about what they wanted. He’d swear even his magic wanted Arthur.
“All I’m hearing is you can’t keep up with me,” he said, dragging his finger up to Arthur’s stubbled jaw.
“Now you’re just trying to get into trouble.” Arthur caught Rory’s finger with his teeth, then let it go with a playful nip. “It won’t work.” His smile faded. “Last night,” he started, uncharacteristically hesitant, “you, um, you said I anchor you—called me the lifeline out of your vision?”
Because I found you, Ace, you got me out. A relic’s got nothing on you.
“I said a lotta things,” Rory said awkwardly. Geez, he had to learn to bite his tongue; Arthur was going to think he was screwier than the asylum had.“Scryers never make any sense. Sorry for the crazy talk.”
“Oh.” Some emotion flashed over Arthur’s face, too fast for Rory to catch. “Crazy talk. Of course.”
“Hey.” Rory furrowed his brow. “Are you—”
Arthur cut him off with a kiss that left Rory’s head spinning. “Catch a little more sleep,” he said against Rory’s lips.
Sleep wasn’t what Rory wanted. “Where d’you think you’re going?”
“I can’t have you, but I can at least have a shower.”
Rory shuddered. “You must love to torture yourself.”
Arthur blinked. “What’s torture about a hot shower?”
Rory’s eyes went wide. “You havehot water? In yourprivatebathroom?” No lines, no shivering with a washcloth in front of an icy sink while someone banged on the door? “Could I maybe—after you—if there’s still any left—”
Arthur cut him off with a groan. “You’re breaking my heart.” He rolled on top of Rory, grabbing Rory’s hands in his own and pinning them to the bed next to his head. “Shower with me—andshoweronly,” he warned, before Rory could speak. “Nothing more exciting is going to happen, no matter how sweet your Italian or how pretty your eyes. Understand?”
Oh, Rory understood all right. He understood Arthur shouldn’t pin a fella to the bed with that sexy strength if all he wanted was a shower.
“You’re such a shit.”
“Yes I am.”
Rory soundedproud, damn him, and maybe a little loopy. Arthur glared into the mirror at the reflection of Rory, sprawled on his stomach across Arthur’s bed in nothing but glasses, his curls an adorable mess after being tumbled in the bed with wet hair.
“Don’t you go thinking you can just bat your eyes at me and get your way,” Arthur warned, buttoning up his shirt. “That was a one off.”
“Three off.”
“Shut up.”
Rory smiled his ridiculously endearing little smile and rested his cheek on a pillow.
He’s actually smiling—and because of me. Arthur forced himself to look back at his own reflection. “No time for a morning shave now, thanks toyou.” He ran a hand over his jaw and made a face. “I’m going to spend the day looking like a pirate.”
“You make a good pirate,” Rory said dreamily. “Bellissimo, not justbello, ’cause you’re the most handsome fella in the whole city.”
Arthur froze, hands on his tie. He raised his eyes skyward. He was going to end up wrapped around Rory’s little finger with all the backbone of a piece of string. Heaven help him if Rory ever called him his lifeline again—
