Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(3)

“Yes, I do.”

They stared at each other in wordless challenge. McKenna kept his face blank. He knew Aline well enough to be certain that if she detected any vulnerability in his facade, she would pounce without hesitation.

Finally Aline let out a sigh of defeat. “All right, then,” she whispered, as if to herself. Her spine seemed to straighten, and her tone flattened with resignation. “Shall we meet at the river tomorrow at sunset, McKenna? We’ll throw stones, and talk, and fish a little, as always. Is that what you want?”

It was a long time before McKenna could speak. “Yes,” he said warily. It was all he could have of her—and God knew it was better than nothing.

A wry, affectionate smile tugged at Aline’s lips as she stared at him. “You had better go then, before you’re caught up here. But first, bend down and let me fix your hair. It’s sticking up on top.”

Had he not been so distracted, McKenna would have pointed out that there was no need for her to neaten his appearance. He was going to his room over the stables, and the five dozen horses that were lodged there didn’t give a damn about his hair. But he bent automatically, indulging Aline’s slightest wish from sheer force of habit.

Instead of smoothing his unruly black locks, Aline stood on her toes, slid a hand behind the back of his neck, and brought her mouth to his.

The kiss affected him like a lightning strike. McKenna made an agitated sound in his throat, his entire body suddenly immobilized from a shock of pleasure. Oh God, her lips, so lush and delicate, searching his with awkward determination. As Aline had known, there was no way in hell that he could pull away from her now. His muscles locked, and he stood passively, fighting to contain the flood of sensation that threatened to overwhelm him. He loved her, wanted her, with blind adolescent ferocity. His shaky grasp on his self-control lasted for less than a minute before he groaned in defeat and clamped his arms around her.

Breathing harshly, he kissed her over and over, intoxicated by the softness of her lips. Aline responded eagerly, pressing upward, while her fingers curled into the closely shorn strands of his hair. The pleasure of holding her was too great…McKenna couldn’t stop himself from increasing the pressure of his kisses until her lips parted innocently. He took immediate advantage, exploring the edge of her teeth, the wet silk of her mouth. That surprised her—he sensed her hesitation, and he crooned in his throat until she relaxed. He slid his hand over the back of her head, his fingers conforming to the curve of her scalp, while he sank his tongue more deeply inside her. Aline gasped and clutched his shoulders tightly, responding with a raw, unselfconscious sensuality that devastated him. McKenna longed to kiss and love every part of her, to give her more pleasure than it was possible to bear. He had known desire before, and although his experience was limited, he was not a virgin. But he had never encountered this agonizing blend of emotion and physical hunger before…a searing temptation that he could never surrender to.

Tearing his mouth from hers, McKenna buried his face in the shining midnight veil of her hair. “Why did you do that?” he groaned.

Aline’s brief laugh was an audible ache. “You’re everything to me. I love you. I’ve always—”

“Hush.” He shook her slightly to silence her. Holding her at arm’s length, he glared into her flushed, radiant face. “Don’t ever say that again. If you do, I’ll leave Stony Cross.”

“We’ll run away together,” she continued recklessly. “We’ll go to a place where no one can find us—”

“Holy hell, do you know how insane you sound?”

“Why is it insane?”

“Do you think I would ruin your life that way?”

“I belong with you,” she said stubbornly. “I’ll do whatever I have to, to be with you.”

She believed what she was saying—McKenna saw it in her face. It broke his heart, even as it infuriated him. Damn her, she knew that the differences between them were insurmountable, and she had to accept that. He couldn’t stay here and be faced with constant temptation, knowing that to give in would result in both their downfalls.

Cradling her face in his hands, McKenna let his fingers touch the outward tips of her dark brows, and drew his thumbs over the warm velvet of her cheeks. And because he couldn’t manage to disguise the reverence of his touch, he spoke with cold bluntness. “You think you want me now. But you’ll change. Someday you’ll find it damned easy to forget about me. I’m a bastard. A servant, and not even an upper servant at that—”

“You’re the other half of me.”

Shocked into silence, McKenna closed his eyes. He hated his own instinctive response to the words, the leap of primitive joy. “Bloody hell. You’re making it impossible for me to stay at Stony Cross.”

Aline backed away from him at once, the color draining from her face. “No. Don’t go. I’m sorry. I won’t say anything else. Please, McKenna—you’ll stay, won’t you?”

He had a sudden taste of the inevitable pain that he would experience someday, the lethal wounds that would result from the simple act of leaving her. Aline was nineteen…he had another year with her, perhaps not even that long. Then the world would open up to her, and McKenna would become a dangerous liability. Or worse, an embarrassment. She would make herself forget this night. She would not want to remember what she had said to a stable boy on the moonlit balcony outside her bedroom. But until then…