Visions (Cainsville #2)(74)

As I turned, searching, I swore I could sense him circling, catch the glitter of his eyes through the trees, hear his breathing, coming faster now, the slight catch of it as he . . .

I wheeled to see him right behind me, midpounce. He snagged my belt loop and yanked me back, his free hand going around my waist, blazing hot against my cold skin, raising goose bumps as he pulled me to him.

I broke free and danced away. He chuckled, the sound reverberating through me, heat rising in its wake.

“Close,” he said.

“But not close enough.”

I ran. I headed straight for the clearing, hoping it would be bigger than it looked and give me time to run on open ground. I was dashing into it when Ricky called, “No! Don’t!”

I skidded to a stop. He ran up behind me, halting a few feet away.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just don’t . . . Don’t go in there, okay?”

I was about to tease that he was stacking the deck, keeping me from open ground, but genuine worry shone from his eyes.

I glanced into the clearing.

“Unfair advantage,” he said. “You’re faster than I am on open ground.”

Though he said it with a smile, there was a tightness in his voice. When I stepped toward the glade, he tensed, staying where he was but rocking on the balls of his feet, as if he wanted to grab me back. I peered in to see a circle of white mushrooms, glowing in the moonlight.

“That’s a fairy ring,” I said.

When I looked over at him, he flushed. “Um, yeah . . . Can we just . . . ? There’s something over here I wanted to show you.” He pointed in the other direction. When I looked back at the circle, he sighed. “Yeah, I’m superstitious. It’s my grandmother’s fault, and I know it’s stupid, but something gets in your head like that—”

“And it’s hard to shake, even if you know better.”

“Yep.” He walked over to me, his hands snaking around my waist. “She used to tell me stories about people getting trapped in fairy circles.”

“They walk into a party that never ends, and they can’t escape.”

“You know your folklore.”

“I do.”

His lips brushed mine. “So here’s the part where you get to mock me for being superstitious.”

I put my arms around him. “Never.”

“Just tease me about it, then.”

I kissed him. “Never.”

He returned the kiss, tentative at first, as if still worried he’d embarrassed himself, but when I didn’t pull back, that heat from earlier licked, reigniting. I could smell the faint smoke and fire and feel the damp darkness like fog, creeping up, cool and brisk, as the heat of his body blazed through me.

I pulled back and looked up at him, his eyes glittering again with those golden sparks, his blond hair falling forward, brushing my face, his breath smelling faintly of . . . forest. I know it was a trick of perception, but that’s what I smelled, all the rich scents of the forest, bathing my face in warm breath as he leaned in to kiss me again and— I slid out of his grip and danced backward.

“You’re not going to get far now,” he warned.

“No?”

He stepped toward me. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

I dodged. He grabbed my arm, but I wrenched away. When I started to run, he caught me, his hand on my elbow, fingers wrapping around my arm. He yanked me to him in a rough kiss, pulling me against him so tight I had no chance of slipping away.

“Give up?” he said, breaking the kiss.

“Mmm . . .” I gave a tentative wiggle.

A sexy, low chuckle. “Not a chance.”

I laced my hands behind his head, pulling him down in a kiss so hard and deep he gasped, relaxing against me, all his energy going into that kiss as his grip relaxed, too. I propelled myself backward, trying to break free. His arms only tightened.

“Nope,” he said, still kissing me.

I kissed him again, fingers entwined in his hair. Then I moved one hand lower, tickling down his side and squeezing between us to flick open the button on his jeans.

“That won’t work, either,” he said as his hands moved to my ass and he pushed me against a tree.

“Pinning me now?” I asked.

“Just getting prepared . . .” He hissed as my hand slid into his jeans, wrapping around him. “For that.”

“I thought you didn’t get distracted.”

“Mmm.”

I stroked him until his eyes slitted, those gold flecks glowing. I tightened my grip, and he swore under his breath. I leaned in to kiss him, his hands squeezing my ass as he pushed me against the tree and I stroked him.

“You might not . . . want to keep . . . doing that,” he panted between kisses. “That chasing . . .”

“Shortened your fuse?”

He managed a laugh, entwined with a groan. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry. I know exactly how far—”

His breathing hitched.

“That far,” I said, and let go, throwing my weight to the side . . . and getting absolutely nowhere as his arm shot out to stop me. “Damn,” I said.

He chuckled, the sound ragged now, his eyes barely opening. “You really think I’m going to let you go now?” He pushed me against the tree, kissing me, lifting me up to straddle him.