The Fix Is In (Torus Intercession 4)

I chuckled. “I will not put you over this table when you have a perfectly good bed in the next room, and it’s kinda boring, but I never get sick.”

“Why would that be boring?”

“Because it’s romantic to have someone take care of you, right?”

He nodded, smiling at me.

“But if you’re never under the weather, no one ever has the opportunity.”

“There are other ways and reasons to take care of someone, you know. Plus, I don’t think I need you doped up on cold medicine to seduce you.”

“No, you don’t,” I rumbled.

His grunt was sexy, and he kissed me again. This one was slower, deeper, taking his time, like I belonged to him so he didn’t have to rush to stake a claim. And he was right. While I was in Rune, I was his. It was when I left that was the problem.

It was my turn to break the kiss, which was difficult because it was the last thing I wanted to do, but his worry had made me worry.

“No,” he whined, “you’re thinking about me not eating and getting sicker.”

“This is funny,” I said, reaching up and taking his face in my hands. “It’s like I can read your mind.”

“I told you,” he whispered, burrowing against me, “I saw you, and I felt an instant connection. When I go see Harold, you’ll have to come with me, and we can ask how we’re connected.”

I needed to explain to him again that where he went, I went.

“Harold will know of course,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I hazard to even ask.”

“Oh,” he said cheerfully, pressing a soft kiss to the side of my neck, “along with his many other gifts, Harold’s also adept at retrocognition.”

“I don’t wanna know what that is,” I told him. “Really. Don’t tell me.”

“He can see into the past,” he explained with a flourish, like this was a good thing. Or even remotely possible.

I groaned, mostly because his nose brushed my cheek and that, coupled with his hot breath on my ear, brought a shudder of wanting.

“We could also ask Delly, but she’s new at her craft, and not as good as Harold,” he declared, turning my head to take my mouth.

He tipped my chin back and planted a kiss on me that I moaned into. I had my hands inside his sweats in seconds, and the litany of begging began.

“Shaw, please,” he whispered between frantic, urgent kisses.

Hands gripping his ass, I lifted him easily, turned, and knocked him back into the wall. His long legs wrapped around my hips as he ground against me, trying to get closer, one arm encircling my neck, his other hand sliding up under my Henley.

“Jesus,” he gasped, taking a breath, lifting my shirt. “You need to take me to bed. I want to see you.”

“I’m not all cut and perfect, and I don’t wax or––”

“Yeah, I can feel the hair on your chest and the muscles, and let’s go now.”

I knew what I looked like and didn’t worry much. If big and brawny was your thing, I was your guy. But Benji was… beautiful. He was way out of my league.

“Oh my God,” he said, laughing.

I was going to put him down and step away because being teased about being insecure was not a turn-on in any way.

“Look at me,” he ordered, still chuckling.

Meeting his gaze, all I saw was heat. Blown pupils, swollen lips, a different kind of flush from before, not from fever but from lust.

“I bet there’s a beautiful trail of gorgeous copper hair that goes from your chest down to your navel all the way to your––”

“Stop,” I ground out, because seeing him with nothing but raw, naked need in his eyes made me realize what an idiot I was being. He wanted me every bit as badly as I wanted him.

He trembled hard, and I put him down gently, trying to untangle myself, needing to clear my head. When he turned, tugging me after him, I would have followed, thrown caution to the wind, because who cared if my heart got scuffed up when I left? It would be worth it to have him for even a short time, but his face scrunched up, and he sneezed.

I stared at him.

“No.”

And smiled slowly.

“No, no,” he whined.

“God, you’re cute,” I said, easing my hand free to take gentle hold of his face.

“No,” he griped as I drew him close and kissed his forehead.

“Sit down and finish your food, take some more meds, and then I would love to lie in bed with you while you rest and we talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” he said, sounding nasally as he sneezed again, and again, three times in quick succession, sounding like a kitten or a bunny, then sneezing one more time into his paper towel. “I want to––”

“Me too,” I assured him, “but let’s get you a little bit better and snot-free. I don’t want you to pass out while you’re kissing me because you can’t breathe.”