Infinite Us(61)

"You were right." That small stroke stopped and the mattress shook with her small laughter. "Don't get used to it. That's a freebee."

"I can't see it right now, but I'm willing to bet your aura is red."

"Red is good?'

She stretched, looking over her shoulder to squint at me. "Red can be good. It means virility and passion and … love." She looked away from me, pulling her hair off her neck. "It could also mean anger and violence."

"I'm damn far from angry or violent."

"I don't know," she said, sliding closer to me. The feel of her soft skin and that wide ass against me was almost too much. She knew it. She knew the power she had in the small maneuver of her body next to mine. "That seems like something that might do some damage." She laughed, arching her back so her ass rested full against me, teasing and rousing until I was nearly ready for her again.

"Demon woman, my body can't … not yet."

It was good to hear her laugh after so many weeks of irritating her, of telling myself she wasn't what I wanted. There was a quiet in this space, something that I didn't know, had never felt before, but that felt somehow right and real and what I wanted. Willow's laughter reminded me of wind chimes, soft and sweet, and constant, something that filled my chest with sensation.

"Nash," she said after her laughter had gone quiet and sleep had nearly taken us again. "Are you listening?"

"Yeah." The word came out a little sleepy, a lot still high from the spell Willow worked over me. "Yeah, I'm awake."

"I figured something out the other night, before … well everything."



       
         
       
        

Something warm and numbing moved into my head then, something that had me dropping my guard and forgetting what I'd probably have to give up if I wanted to be with Willow. "What did you figure out?"

She moved then, slipping the comforter over her chest, holding it there as she looked down at me. "I think … I'm pretty sure we knew each other in another life."

"In another life" echoed a little in my head, like the vibration from a chord when it's played loud and piercing. Willow hadn't misspoke and she wasn't joking. She hung onto that comforter like it would protect her, like it would keep her safe in case I told her she'd gone straight out of her mind.

"Wait … what?"

"Think about it … " she moved closer, tugging up the blanket and nudging me to sit up. "Since the day I met you, I've felt this … this thing and I know you have too." She moved her head, tilting it until I glanced at her and let her hold my gaze. "I'm not wrong, am I?"

It would be stupid to shut out the things racing through my head-how she made me feel, how much I wanted her again and again, all the things that tied us together in that moment. But there were other things too-memories that had kept me from sleep, memories that felt so real, so familiar and somehow had always kept Willow in my mind when I thought about them. But did that mean my entire belief system would be changed? Did that mean I'd have to start believing the fairytales our relatives had always told us?

I liked Willow. What I felt for her scared me a little, but that didn't mean I was ready to buy into her out-in-left-field juju.

"Oh, there was something there. I'll give you that one, but I don't think it means that you and me knew each other. That's doesn't mean I'm ready to stop believing in evolution or that this life is it for us."

Willow moved her head, the smallest shake that might not have been anything more than a twitch. But her eyes widened and I noticed the way her mouth twitched, not like she was about to smile. That was her fighting to reel in her irritation.

She didn't pull away from me when I reached for her. Instead, Willow held my hand in her lap, tracing the lines and dips in my handprint with the tip of her nail. When she spoke, it was to my palm. "There's something inside me. I can't explain it, but it's there. It's this little monster that whispers to me when I sleep … every damn time I dream."

I was familiar with the sensation. There was a loud, angry voice screaming things to me, telling me to feel something, sometimes to not feel anything at all. It was the same voice reminding me that I didn't have time for women, that I was fine all on my own. But that didn't mean Willow needed to know that. "What does it say?" 

I saw the answer in the movement of her irises, how that slow, eager gaze gave away everything she wouldn't let her mouth confess. But Willow was a master at distraction, eradicating the focus on things she did not want on her; the subjects that moved her expression into something that told me all I needed to know of how she felt.