Page 36 of Homeward for a Spell

“You make a wedding contract sound like a business deal.”

“I suppose I do,” she says coolly. “But I don’t want to talk about Harrow. I have more immediate plans.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. For instance, right now? I intend to kiss you.” Araphi’s eyes are darker than the water as she watches Sage, and she smirks at the audible hitch in her breath. “If that’s disagreeable…if I’m disagreeable to you, then you’d better tell me. Because I’ve been wondering how you taste since we first met in Bloomfield, and after you saved my honor in the village”—she flashes a dangerous grin—“I mean to find out.”

14

Araphi

Touching the lemon and acorn charms she wears around her neck—the only thing she’s wearing now—Araphi wades forward. Hot water surges around her. She hopes her words haven’t been too bold. That she hasn’t just destroyed this delicate thing between her and Sage.

Whatever this is, it has no future. Your future waits for you back in Ashaway, in the form of a very large man and a very unfortunate wedding.

Araphi shoves that thought away, swimming even closer to Sage, each stroke reducing the distance between them. The ranger’s eyes flash for a moment, moonlight painting the hazel depths golden, and then she lunges forward to meet Araphi in the middle of the pool.

They collide gently, a tangle of long limbs, slick skin, breathless gasps, and waves of hot water. Sage’s hands are everywhere. Tracing Araphi’s shoulders, cupping her cheek, reaching for one of Araphi’s braids.

It’s magnificent.

Araphi’s belly tightens at the touch, her own hands running over Sage’s moonlit skin.

“You’ve been wondering how I taste, Bard?” Sage breathes the words against Araphi’s lips.

“Desperately.”

“How unladylike of you.” Sage’s tone is wicked, dangerous—all delicious craving and unmet need.

Araphi loves it. She would do anything to keep Sage talking. To have her look at Araphi like she’s doing now.

“I’ve been wondering that for days, Ranger.” Araphi traces Sage’s waist. “Among other things.”

Sage inhales sharply as Araphi pulls her closer. The planes of their stomachs brush, and the curves of their breasts. Sage bites her bottom lip, and Araphi shivers. She’s bedded women before, chased after them, thought of them as she went to sleep, but she’s never ever wanted one as much as she wants Sage. This ranger is going to be her undoing; she knows it.

And she’s so ready for it.

Her hand flits lower, wedging itself gently in the space between their navels.

“What else have you been wondering?” Sage murmurs, her voice husky. She plants the lightest of kisses on the side of Araphi’s mouth.

Araphi moves her hand lower still, her strong musician’s fingers playing a line down Sage’s hip. Sage’s muscles tighten at the touch.

“Many things,” Araphi whispers. Her fingers dip ever lower. “Including what you sound like when someone takes you apart. What it takes for you to lose control, and—”

Sage groans, her mouth closing over Araphi’s, swallowing the rest of her words in a heated kiss.

As Araphi suspected, Sage tastes wonderful. Her kisses, though, are by turn sweeter and softer than Araphi thought they could be, and she needs more.

She steps forward once, twice, forcing Sage to move backward with her, until she’s got the ranger pressed against the side of the pool.

“You’re very good with your hands, Bard,” Sage manages, as Araphi’s free hand cups her breast. Slowly, Araphi circles Sage’s nipple, while her other hand drifts even lower.

“How do you want to be touched, Ranger?” Araphi whispers, her voice molten.

Steadying herself against the side of the pool, Sage places her own hand over Araphi’s, pushing the heel of her hand against her body.

“Like this?” Araphi asks.