“No.”
“Burning down a house?”
“No, that’s crazy.”
“Well, what then? If you had extra power, what would you do with it?”
“You saw what I do for work. Kinda, anyway. I would unpack the rest of my boxes at my house.”
“You’ve been living in Hundsburg for about two months?”
She nodded.
“And you haven’t unpacked yet?”
“I’ve been busy, and I was painting my kitchen.”
“Take it and unpack your house. Can you do it from here?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Sure. It takes more power, but if you really don’t want any of it, it shouldn’t be a problem, and I’ll go into work tomorrow with a full tank, so to speak. Put both your hands on the table.”
She laid her hands on top of his and closed her eyes, and the power slipped out of him. But part of hers, a small wisp, trailed back the other way. It coiled around his arms, and while her eyes were closed, his were wide open.
Her breaths were shallow, and her lips were full and slightly parted. If the world crashed away around them, he wouldn’t tear his hands out from under hers. He’d never wanted a woman, a female, more than he wanted her.
When the last little bit of his power trailed out, when he should have been pale and collapsing on the floor of the restaurant, he wanted to take her. Possess her there, on the table. When she finished, her chest was heaving.
“Is that normal? When . . .” He didn’t say it. He didn’t want to think of her having an experience like this with anyone else. Ever. How could he . . .
“Normal?” She’d gone into herself, like her brain sped to conclusions. With a conversation he wanted, needed, to be part of. “No, not normal.”
He hadn’t moved his hand, and she twitched the one closest to the fire.
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Me either.” Flint threw some money on the table.
And they were up and almost running back to his truck. He opened her door. “Do you want some help?”
She stared at the seat.
“Or a ladder.”
She laughed.
“Come here.” Flint grabbed her around her waist with the intent of lifting her. But when she turned, one hand moved up to her chin, and the other to her waist. He tilted her head. “I want to kiss you, Emma Davis.”
She squeaked.
“Is that a yes?”
“Uh-huh?”
His lips tilted up in an unfamiliar way. Oh, he smiled around his nieces and nephews, but other adults didn’t see it often. He lowered his head to her. Their lips brushed softly at first.
Emma was tentative, but when he leaned over and applied firm pressure to her mouth, she softened, letting him in. Her hand moved from limp at her side to around Flint’s neck to into his hair. She jumped up his body, and he held her up. Her leg around his waist, he leaned her into his truck.
His tongue in her mouth, she moaned, soft and low, and ground her hips against his groin. “Oh Goddess.”
Flint’s brain flicked on, and his body stilled. Goddess. What in the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t help but give her another quick kiss on the lips. He could give her her groceries and send her away. She’d be angry enough to never talk to him again.
He glanced down at her. Her blue eyes blinked up at him. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She hadn’t bound his powers, lived a lie, let his father die. She had given him a gift, a respite from the power that plagued him. And she made him harder than he’d ever been before. No, he wouldn’t keep her, but he could have her if she wanted him. There wasn’t anything wrong with them having some fun.
“You want that lift now?” he asked.
She ran her hand down his arm, her fingers finding every tendon. “You sure?”
“Yes.” He held out his hand for her.
“Because just now you didn’t look so sure. And I don’t do pity sex.”
“One, I would never do ‘pity sex.’ Two, you need to tell me who said that to you because I will crush them.”
A calm smile enveloped her face, and she gave him her hand. “He wasn’t worth your time.”
“No, you’re wrong. He wasn’t worthy of you.” He put his hands all the way around her waist and lifted her into the truck. Once she settled, he looked over at her. “You good?”
She gave him a firm nod. He closed the door and hit the hood twice with the palm of his hand before climbing into the truck himself. “Yours or mine?”
