“Do you remember my welcome reception?” Arthur asked when he came up for air.
Maggie tilted her head in confusion. “Sure. I was there.”
“You were.” He dragged his thumb along her bottom lip, slightly swollen from when he’d sucked it into his mouth just moments ago. “You were wearing this same skirt.” His fingers grazed the hem. “And when you came up to me, you had this lovely smile on your face. That was the first time I noticed your lips. The first time I wondered what it would be like to kiss you.”
“That was before—”
“Well before Beltane, Maggie.” His fingers at the hem of herskirt rose higher, gripping the curve of her ass. His touch couldn’t distract her from what he was saying, though. He remembered what she was wearing that day? Gods above, she didn’t know how to feel. “You didn’t get flustered when you talked to me. You didn’t ask about my research.” As he spoke, he hiked her leg farther over his hip. “In fact, you barely said ‘Hello, welcome,’ before you went back to talking to Dahlia.”
“You liked me because I was rude?”
He smirked. “Maybe. A little.” His hips dipped into hers, just enough that it felt scandalous. “Then I went to your community lecture.”
She shot up, nearly colliding with his head, but he dodged out of the way. “You did?” She was incredulous. “The one I gave in October?”
He nodded, easing her back onto the couch. “That’s when I fell in love with how you think.” Maggie tried not to think about that word, not here in their office, not with him between her legs. She swallowed as he went on. “I went to the library and read some of your research.”
“Stop, this might be the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she said with a soft laugh. “You’d better not be lying just to get me to fuck you in this office.”
He leaned down, and she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he began reciting something in her ear. “Hand in hand, walking through eastern fields of gilded yarrow—” he whispered, nuzzling her neck as he said it.
“Are you for real?” He ignored her. That washertranslation, the one she had been working on for years.
“The near autumn sun anoints your brow in a shining crown,” hewent on, each word perfectly recited. “Furrowed there, in deep grooves like wounds, are tomorrow’s sorrows. Bury my body, love.” The next words were swallowed as he kissed her neck, her ear. Maggie felt like she was short-circuiting from this revelation, from the way he was lavishing her skin with his mouth.
“You read my translation ofBranagh’s Aubade?” she asked.
“What you’ve published of it, yes. It’s beautiful.”
Maggie wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, kissing him again, her fingers trailing along the hard line of his belt. This time, she pulled his lip into her mouth, biting it lightly, and he sank farther into her, their clothing nothing but frustrating friction between them. “I went to your community lecture, too,” Maggie admitted.
He didn’t stop kissing her as he asked, “And what did you think?”
“I was spectacularly annoyed that you were as brilliant as advertised.” He laughed dryly. “It’s not fair how accomplished you are.” He nipped her ear, and she squirmed beneath him. “In all facets of life,” she added, gasping.
“There is only one thing I care about being good at right now,” he said as he played with the stretchy waistband of her skirt.
Even as her hips tilted up toward him, she said, “Don’t forget the rules.”
He returned to safe territory, tracing circles over her clothing. “Are you sure you want me to remember the rules, Maggie?” he asked in his wicked voice, the one that could persuade her to do almost anything if he just growled her name.
She squirmed beneath him, hating the rules she’d invented.The door is locked, she reasoned.Campus might as well be empty. There aren’t even any summer classes running right now.
She opened her mouth to give in, when the timer they had set earlier went off. Arthur smiled, as if he’d known all along they were coming close to the time, and gave one last slow stroke of her spine, one last lingering kiss, before they stood to return to the botany lab.
Chapter Thirty
Over the next two weeks, Maggie and Arthur clocked in long hours on campus. The pall was growing, strengthening, but Maggie couldn’t have sped up time even if she wanted to. They were at the mercy of the decoction, which was slowly settling into the dark eggplant purple they needed to show it was ready to use in their spell.
While Arthur worked to edit his calculations to factor in the convergence, even bringing in Jim at Maggie’s urging, Maggie focused on her incantation translation. Dissipation incantations were old magic, and not particularly difficult, but because the pall was cast due to an incantation error, she was double- and triple-checking every word choice and spending hours combing through ancient Diadhan texts. The additional power of the convergence threw everything in the spell off-kilter, and she was accounting for that as much as Arthur was in his calculations.
Campus was quiet. Rarely, they ran into another faculty member or an administrator as they alternated between working in their office and the libraries, which were mostly deserted over the summer. Maggie always missed the students when they were gone, with their boisterous activities on the lawn. They breathed life into the campus, and during the doldrums ofsummer, she often wished the time away. But for the first time in years, she found herself wanting summer to slow down.
By nature of her apartment being closer to campus, Maggie and Arthur often found themselves tumbling into her bedroom when they had a spare hour or two, in between fortifying wards around campus and spellwork. She almost didn’t recognize herself. She was insatiable for Arthur. For the sex, yes, but also for his company. She had completely and utterly shocked herself bylikingArthur Taliesin.
Sometimes, as they worked on their own individual parts of the spell, Maggie would lie down on the couch, her head on the armrest nearest to Arthur’s tiny desk. She would let her mind wander, an essential part of any troublesome incantation, and marvel at Arthur sitting next to her. Absentmindedly, he sometimes reached over and ran his fingers through her hair or massaged her shoulders, even as he didn’t take his eyes off the work in front of him. It was so easy. So normal.
Had she ever been this content? The truth was, she had, once. It had been like this with Evan. They, too, had spent every day together. Had lived in the same on-campus apartment building and later in the same apartment off campus. They had taken the same classes and worked on many of the same projects together. And that comparison terrified her.
