Fantastical (Fantasyland #3)(76)

His eyes dropped to my mouth then without a word he slid the remote out of my hands and tucked my face back to his chest.

Held by Prince Noctorno Hawthorne on my sofa, in my world I listened to a beautiful, sexy song.

When it was over, almost immediately the guitar strums sounded again (clearly Tor had mastered the stereo remote) and we listened yet again, the words washing over me and I heard them not for the first time but I heard their meaning for the first time – they were words full of yearning, passion, admiration and a love that sounded like worship.

And again, when it was over, the guitar strums came back but when they did this time, Tor dropped the remote on the side table, pulled me out of the couch, put his hands to my h*ps and slid them around so he could fit me into his arms.

I tensed, thinking he was going to try to start something, maybe kiss me.

But he didn’t, he pressed his jaw to the side of my head and his h*ps started swaying, his hands at the small of my back moving me with him.

Holy crap, he was dancing with me in my living room.

I didn’t even wait a second before I closed my eyes and moved, telling myself, just this moment, just this time, just this five minutes with Tor and The Dave Matthews Band and a freaking fantastic song.

Just these five minutes.

So I bent my neck and rested my forehead to his shoulder. He took my hand, laced our fingers together, held them to his chest, his other hand pushing into the small of my back, fitting my h*ps snug to his. I slid my other arm around his shoulders and turned my head so my forehead was against his neck. At this, he bent his neck and rested his lips against mine.

And we swayed. Even when the tempo of the song increased, Tor kept our movements slow, fluid and in my little, colorful living room, the rain beating outside, the day gray, the streets grimy, with the help of The Dave Matthews Band, Tor created magic. I felt it with every strum of the guitars, every longing word, every sway of our hips, the hardness of Tor’s body pressed to mine, the warmth of his hand at the small of my back, his strong fingers holding mine tight.

It was the most astonishingly beautiful moment in my life, unbearably sexy, and even though I’d spent nearly two months in a glittering fairytale world, in that moment’s enchanting simplicity, it was by far and away the most magical.

And when the song faded away, I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to snatch the notes back. I didn’t want five minutes, I wanted ten, I wanted an hour.

I wanted a lifetime.

Tor’s h*ps stopped moving and his hand pressed mine flat to his chest before it came to my chin, lifted my face up to his and I could see, clear in his eyes, he’d felt everything I’d felt and that exquisite pain I felt last night again slashed through me.

Then he declared quietly, “The man who wrote the words in that song has given half his soul to his woman. There is destiny you cannot control but this man, he found the woman who completed him and he gave his soul at his liberty.”

And he said this like he knew it from experience.

And he said it looking at me.

Then he bent his head and touched his lips tenderly to each of my eyes in turn, both of them closing and staying closed even after he let me go and I heard his boots beat on my floors and then I heard the electric razor coming through the bedroom from the bathroom.

I realized my chest was rising and falling deeply, my eyes slowly opened and I stared at my wall as I allowed myself one more thing.

I allowed myself to feel that exquisite pain at the same time the shadow of the touch of Tor’s lips on my eyes lingered.

Then I went to my bathroom to share the basin with Tor as I fixed my makeup and decided not to share with him that “Crash into Me” had hints of voyeurism at the same time I decided, forever and always, that song would mean to me exactly what it meant to Tor.

* * *

And now we were in my car, heading to my parents’ house and I was, again, freaking out.

And I was tired of freaking out.

So damned tired of it.

Tor’s hand came to mine and his fingers laced through while he noted softly, “I like this transport.” I turned to look at him and watched him lift my hand and brush his lips against my knuckles.

Damn. There it was, that exquisite pain was back.

He dropped our hands to his thigh and without taking his eyes from the road, he continued, “But I prefer Salem. In your car, you’re too far away.” My breath caught. “On Salem, you’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

I closed my eyes, looked away then sighed deeply.

I wished he’d quit saying (and doing) things like that at the same time I wished he’d never stop.

Damn.

My folks’ house came into sight and I whispered to Tor, pointing with my hand not held in his, “It’s that one, right there. You can park in front.”

With ease, Tor guided my car to the curb.

I stared out the window at my parents’ house, trying to force myself toward calm.

I felt Tor squeeze my fingers and my head swung to him.

“It’ll be all right, my love,” he assured me quietly.

“Right,” I whispered, not believing him.

His hand brought mine to his chest as his other hand came out, hooked me around the neck and pulled me to him.

“If it isn’t, I’ll make it so,” he declared. “That’s a vow.”

I held my breath. Tor smiled at me.