His eyes were tortured. “Enough to die again if you ask me to,” he murmured.
She’d shed more tears in the past hour than she had in months. It seemed she still had more to spare. “Oh, Ian.”
She reached out to touch his face. For a moment, it appeared that he would move away from her again. But he stayed where he was, seeming to hold his breath.
She laid her hand gently against the side of his face.
His cheek was firm beneath her fingertips. Warm. The faintest hint of stubble tickled her skin She felt the muscle work in his jaw as he swallowed.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He caught her hand in his own, gripping it so tightly he was in danger of pulverizing her fingers. She didn’t protest. He dragged her hand to his mouth, and kissed it. “I love you,” he said. “I loved you before I ever met you.”
She rubbed her thumb carefully over his battered lower lip. “You haven’t even kissed me.”
He smiled against her touch. “I know.”
“Don’t you want to?”
He reached out to move a strand of hair away from her cheek. She felt the tremor in his fingers. “It’s beena very long time since I’ve kissed anyone. What if I’ve forgotten how?”
She thought she’d explode if he didn’t kiss her soon. “It’ll come back to you,” she assured him, and swayed toward him.
He crushed her against his chest. His mouth covered hers. Bailey threw her arms around his neck, delighted to discover that he hadn’t forgotten anything.
The kiss lasted a very long time. Ian finally raised his head, laughing softly and gasping for breath. “Air,” he murmured, filling his lungs.
She smiled and touched the cut on his lip. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Yes. It feels good.”
She understood. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, so much she wanted to understand about the existence he’d led for the past seventy-five years, about Dean and Anna… everything. But that could wait.
She tugged his head toward her and kissed him again.
“Bailey,” Ian muttered some time later, dragging his mouth away from hers. His breathing was ragged now, his dark eyes burning with desire. “We should stop. I can’t—I want—”
“Make love with me, Ian.”
He caught his breath. “You’re—you’re sure?”
“I want you. Does that shock you?” she asked, belatedly remembering the time he’d lived in before.
He smiled and cupped her face in one large, strong hand. “No,” he murmured. “It delights me. I love your honesty. And your courage,” he said, brushing his
mouth against her.
“Your kindness,” he added, kissing her again. “Your loyalty.”
She melted into him, hopelessly enthralled by this charmingly seductive side of him.
“Your legs,” he said, smiling against her lips. “I particularly like your legs.”
She giggled. “If I start listing parts of you that I find especially attractive, I’ll really shock you.”
His grin was delectably wicked. “We’ll have to put that to the test. Later.”
They were still kneeling on the floor, beside the stacks of books. Ian stood and reached down a hand to her.