The Fix Is In (Torus Intercession 4)

“I’m leaving,” I reiterated. “I’m not staying here.”

“Yes, I heard you.”

He was eating and not taking the conversation seriously in the slightest. He thought—God knew what he thought, but I was certainly not going to stay. I wasn’t like Brann or Croy or any of the other fixers who’d gone out on a job and never returned to their old lives. I had a home to go back to, one I had made my own. I had a loving family and good friends. I had a routine in Chicago with people who were important and—

“Your brain is going to explode,” he soothed me, patting my thigh under the table before reaching out to take hold of my hand. “Stop now. We can figure everything out. For now, let’s eat these amazing pancakes. You know, I don’t normally like banana, but it’s not overwhelming and… is this lemon curd I’m tasting?”

It was stupid. I knew who I was, what I wanted, and where I was going to be. And yes, I already liked his scattered mind and kind heart and big blue eyes, but I would leave. He liked me now because he knew I was going to go home. He wouldn’t like me if I lived in a place like Rune. I’d be different, unhappy, and maybe even mean.

No. That last part wasn’t true. I was never mean. Not purposely.

“Hello?”

And besides, he wouldn’t want to keep me. No one ever did.

“Shaw?”

I was somehow not the guy any––

“Hey,” he murmured, and the sultry sound of his voice combined with the hand on my cheek, I don’t know, sort of opened my eyes, literally and figuratively. One second, I was completely in my head, and the next I was staring into all that blue.

Shit.

“Seriously,” he chided me gently, smiling like I was dear. “Stop thinking.”

And I had stopped thinking about anything but him.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to––”

“What?” I taunted him. “What’re you gonna do?”

He went very still, and his gaze locked with mine.

“Well?” I husked.

His breath caught, and his fork dropped to his plate with a clatter.

“Benji?”

“You can’t say stop and then tease. It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” I agreed, pushing back from the table. “C’mere.”

I thought I might have to ask twice. I thought he’d rise slowly, move gently over to me, and I’d ease him down into my lap.

It wasn’t like that.

It was boom—and he was on me.

He pounced, and then his lips were on mine, hard, hungry, the kiss grinding, devouring, his tongue pushing into my mouth as his arms wrapped around my neck, turning an already breathless connection into a lock.

He wasn’t about to be separated from me.

As though I would have allowed that.

I returned each of his whimpering, whining kisses with my own, kissing him back with equal passion, my tongue rubbing over his, my hands digging into his thighs, holding him close as he wriggled in my lap, trying to get closer, pressing against me so tight.

“Shit,” I muttered when he broke the kiss to take a gulp of air.

He chuckled softly, smiling against my mouth.

“Goddammit,” I growled, sharing his air, my forehead pressed to his.

“I’m so thankful no one listened to me and you came here despite my protests.” One of his hands slid up my nape into my hair. “Because when you shoved me down under you during the explosion, I never felt so safe in my life, and when I looked up into your face, I knew you were the one, Shaw. I just knew it.”

“No, no, no,” I grumbled, leaning back, shaking my head. “There’s no such thing as love at first sight or any of that romantic bull––”

“Yes, I know,” he agreed, stroking his fingertips over my beard. “But there are past lives, and I’m very certain we’ve been together before.”

“Oh God,” I groaned.

He laughed at me before he leaned in and kissed me again.

I should have told him it was a mistake. I should have said it was on me, I was an idiot. I should have apologized, but he tasted like maple syrup, and his kisses were hard and demanding and submissive and sweet all at the same time. I could feel the power and want in the way he touched me, how his hands dug into my chest, how hard his cock was, pressed against my stomach.

I took hold of his thighs, tight, and he moaned from the pressure before I moved a hand to his ass and squeezed. When he broke the kiss, I was surprised.

“What? Tired of kissing me already?”

He slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Now you’re worried about making me sick?” I teased him.

Both of his warm hands slipped around the sides of my neck. “I don’t want to make you ill, but I also want to kiss you until your brain melts and you put me over this table.”