Page 31 of The Spirit of Love
“If we stay here, we don’t have to break this spell, and I’ll be ready to go again in another ten minutes.”
“Seriously?”
He tosses his head. “Eight to ten minutes, roughly.”
“Damn.” I laugh. “And if we go?”
He rolls to face me and brushes my hair out of my eyes. Am I imagining the shadow crossing his expression?
“This may be a benefit only to me,” he says, “but if we sleep in my bed, I’ll be able to picture you there every night after you leave.”
“Can you picture me there if we have morning sex in your bed?”
He thinks a moment and then nods. “I believe I can.”
“Then let’s not break the spell just yet.”
He nestles closer, and a moment later, Sam’s asleep, snoring softly and adorably.
In twelve hours, my brain starts to go, and I stop it.Not yet. Not yet. Be here, in this now, with this gently sleeping wondrous man.This is the last night with him you’re going to get.
The adder stone around my neck showed it all—my busy life, which I’ll return to.
I never looked through the stone at Sam. We were interrupted.
Quietly I reach for it, trying not to wake him as I sit up. I gaze at him and then I hold up the stone and wait for magic. Insight.
I wait.
He looks the same. No secret, second life. I wonder if he needs to be awake for it to work. And then I almost laugh at how seriously I’m taking this stone’s magical powers. Because of course Sam made up what he said, about the life he glimpsed through the stone. He only said things based on what I’d already told him. It isn’t magic, just storytelling.
I am in the business of making up stories, but for some reason, looking at Sam sleeping, my mind is completely blank. Either he fucked all the narrative creativity out of me tonight…or else he’s perfect, here, just as he is, and I don’t need to picture him anywhere else.
Iwantto though. I want to know more about him. What else he does when I’m not here. What his plans are for Thanksgiving, and what kind of car he’ll get to replace his Jeep.
He stirs and the soles of our feet touch, and it feels intoxicating. In his sleep, his lips tick up in a smile. I smile and take his hand. His eyes flutter open and he reaches for me, pulling me back into his arms.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“I’m here.”
“But you’re also somewhere else.” His fingers trace my brows, the curve of my cheek. “Your thoughts. Where are they? Work?”
“Maybe.”
“What else?” he asks, sleepily. “Stuff you need to do back home? Get your air-conditioning serviced? Buy the dog food?Make a date to break up with your boyfriend now that you’ve reached nirvana with a master sex god?”
I nudge him. “No boyfriend. Dog passed away last year. And it’s my water heater that needs servicing. But I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“Good. Were you thinking about sexual transcendence?”
“Closer.” I smile. “That and…I do have to leave tomorrow.”
Sam is quiet for a moment. I start to think he might have fallen back asleep, but finally he says, very softly, “I’m into this, Fenny. If you ever start to wonder, if you ever question whether tonight was possibly this good? Whether I like you—a lot? Don’t. Be as sure as I am right now.”
“I’ll try.”
“There is no try.”
