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these for you."
Looking into the bowl, he saw that it was filled to the brim
with tiny, deep-purple berries. "What are they?"
"Dewberries. They are not so sweet as ice-cream, and very
good. Try some." He held them closer. "But be careful, they
are delicate."
Paul took the bowl, placed it on his lap as a smile tugged
at his lips. He'd never met anyone so giving. "You picked
these for me? When?"
"Shortly after you fell asleep. It took hours to gather this
many the thorny stems and fragile berries require much
patience."
"Thorns?" Paul set the bowl next to him on the mattress.
"Did you hurt your fingers?"
"A bit, but they healed..."
Paul took his wrist, held the stained hand to his lips.
Gently, he took Kian's forefinger into his mouth and sucked
on its sweetness.
Kian's eyes rounded. "Paul..."
He moved to the next finger.
Kian began to purr.
And the next.
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"Paul, my sweet." He groaned. "Your fire is a formidable
one."
Paul kissed the palm of his hand, released it. His body
shook with arousal from the brief contact, but he forced
himself calm. "Don't hurt yourself over me, alright?"
Kian held his hand against his heart, a stunned expression
on his face. Then he leaned closer. "I have ... urges."
Paul swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Kian was
always gentle, and never failed to bring him rapture, but the
sheer intensity of the incubus's passion never failed to shake
him. "O-Okay."
Kian laughed. "I'm not speaking of sexual urges,
although," he licked his lips, "I most certainly feel them. I
yearn to see you smile. I yearn to know you."
His brow furrowed in confusion. "Know me?"
"Tell me things."
"Like what?"
Looking as if he didn't know himself, Kian straightened.
"Like..." He broke into a smile. "Your family. Tell me about
them."
His family? "No brothers, no sisters. My father is a
stockbroker on Wall Street; I have dinner with him twice a
month. My mother died when I was nine."
Something flickered in those bronze eyes. Sympathy,
perhaps? "How ... How did she die?"
"She was working late, then had to cross an empty parking
lot. When she opened the door to her car, someone stabbed
her and stole it."
The color drained from Kian's face. "I'm sorry."
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Paul should have felt more grief when saying that, he
knew, but he only felt a faint, dull ache. "It was a long time
ago."
Kian awkwardly fingered the sheets between them. "What
was she like? Your mother?"
"She was a teacher, and she smiled a lot."
Kian frowned, looking confused by the answer. "That's all?"
Paul shrugged. "She was perfect, and now she's gone."
"Oh," whispered Kian, dropping his gaze.
"It's not so attractive anymore, is it?" asked Paul, his voice
soft. "The frost inside of me."
His head shot up. "I..."
"It's alright, Kian. That's the way it usually goes. I
understand if you want to leave." Although he kept his face
smooth, thin spears of ice lanced through his chest when he
thought of Kian gone forever.
So why was he saying these things?
Distress joined the confusion in Kian's expression. "You
would cast me aside so easily?"
This man could have anyone he wanted. Why did he want
to stay so badly? "I'm not casting you aside. I'm just giving
you an out." A tentative smile touched Paul's lips as he forced
himself to say something he'd wanted to admit for a few days
now. "It's ... nice waking up to you here."
Breaking into a grin, the incubus threw himself forward,
pouncing on top of Paul like some great big cat.
The impact knocked the bowl at his side over, and the
unexpected full-bodied contact made Paul groan. Berries
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spilled down the mattress, rolling against his skin as Kian
took his mouth in a hard, eager kiss.
They slid lower until once again Paul found himself flat
on his back staring into shimmering eyes.
Kian pushed himself up, his breathing labored as he
scooped a handful of dewberries into his palm and poured
them over Paul's chest.
Paul gasped when he felt the little berries gather in the
crevasses that separated his muscles between his pecs,
down his abs. Slowly, Kian lowered himself, crushing the fruit
and releasing their juices as he rubbed their bodies together.
"I do not want an 'out,'" said Kian, grinning down at him.
"I want to lick your entire body clean." Illustrating his point,
he lapped at Paul's nipples.
All his frost melted away as fire blazed to life once more.
He reached up, wrapped his arms around Kian.
When the purrs rumbled through his body, he closed his
eyes and smiled.
Nothing in his life had ever been as good as this.
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Chapter Nine
Would Kian be waiting for him on his stoop this evening?
A light frown touched Paul's forehead as he stepped off the
elevator and into the Harcourt lobby. Although he knew his
newfound lover must have a life outside of him, it seemed as
if the incubus was always there to greet him when he
returned home, heedless of the drop in temperature.
He'd have to do something about that.
"Grandpa!"
He turned his head, saw a little girl jump into the arms of
Edward Krauss. He paused, unused to seeing the senior
partner outside of a law setting.
The older man swept her up and straightened. "Danielle!
How are you, sweetie?"
Danielle hugged him tight. Paul noticed the riot of colors
she wore. Red ribbons in her hair, a bright blue shirt, an even
brighter pair of green pants.
She must have dressed herself.
Still, it all seemed familiar somehow...
Paul shook the strange thought from his head and
continued out of the lobby.
"It's you! It's you!"
Before he could even register the girl was referring to him,
she slammed into his legs. The impact knocked the briefcase
from his hand, but he just barely managed to stay on his
feet.
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Surprised, he stared down at the girl clinging to him. "H-
Hi."
"Danielle?" Edward crossed the lobby, curiosity shaping his
features. "Do you know Mr. Graham?"
She tilted her head all the way back, smiling brightly.
"Your name is 'Mr. Graham?' Like the cracker?"
He'd never thought of that. Seemed everyone these days
wanted to compare him to sweet things. "Yes."
"Honey!" A tall woman with blond hair rushed toward
them. "You shouldn't run up to strangers like that!"
"Mr. Graham isn't a stranger, Mommy!" She jumped away
from him, held her hands up to her mother. "Gimme Frankie,
please!"
Something tugged at the corners of his mind as he picked
up his briefcase.
Frankie?
The woman hesitated, pulled an orange teddy bear from
her purse and handed it to her daughter.
Danielle took the bear and proudly showed it to Paul.
"See? You weren't sure if he'd be there when I woke up, but
he was."
Paul reached out, touched the stuffed animal's ear.
"Danielle," said Edward, "what are you talking about?"
She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. "He's
the one, Grandpa. He's the one who found Frankie!"
Edward met Paul's gaze. "Paul?"
Not knowing what to say, he shook his head.
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Danielle hugged her doll to her chest. "You remember,
don't you, Mr. Graham? You remember me and Frankie,
right?"
His lips parted. He didn't want to hurt the child, but when
he looked at her, he only saw flashes of bright colors and ...
and daisies. Why did he think of daisies?
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
Her lower lip trembled as she clutched her bear tighter.
"Wh-What gets wetter the more it dries?"
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