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For a long time, we stayed quiet, me running my fingertips up and down his back, his breaths lengthening, then evening out against my skin.

And finally, I asked, “What were you scared of, Red?”

But he was already off in dreamland, so I settled in for a long night of wakeful watching and quiet aching.

Or so I thought. The next thing I knew, the air in the bedroom had gone cold, the fire in the stove well and truly out. Somehow, I was on my back with Red draped across me, his head pillowed on my shoulder, his right arm thrown over my middle, his leg on top of mine. His hot skin against me was like warm silk; and his cock was hard through both sets of long johns, pressing into my thigh.

I sucked in a shuddering breath as my skin seemed to pull tighter, as blood rushed to my middle and my half-hard cock stiffened fully. His body wrapped around me like this, the scent of mint from the balm, the fragility of him, it all pushed and pulled me in so many directions. After years, a century, of my own company, of magical balance, of peace…

This was torture. And I hoped it never ended.

He gave a little moan and rubbed his cheek against my pec. I held as still as I could, wondering if it was possible to die from wanting. He readjusted, mumbled, “ow,” and then sat up just enough to look down at me, blinking.

I stared back at him in the dark, searching for something clever to say.

His lips parted in a small gasp. And after a few flutters of his dark, thick eyelashes, he said, “Oh, god.” He jerked his hips away, wincing in pain. “I’m so sorry. Fuck. I’m sorr—”

I grabbed his hip and pulled him close again. He grunted, and I almost apologized for hurting his tender ribs. But then he readjusted, and I realized it was his cock that was the problem. Now it pressed into my thigh again, the length of it hot and demanding.

“Stay,” I told him. “Please, stay.”

“No nightmares,” he said.

I asked, “What?”

“I didn’t have any nightmares. Again.”

“Good,” I told him, lifting my leg just a few inches to rub his prick through the two layers of wool. It was warm and thick, and so was I.

“Ah,” he gasped quietly, then took my face in one hand and turned it toward him. He pressed his forehead into mine, so this time when he blinked, I felt his lashes on my cheeks. “Are you—are you sure?”

I had never been surer of anything. “Yes. Are you?”

“Yes!” His voice raised slightly. “Why didn’t you get in the bath with me?”

I was amazed. “Did you want me to?”

“I practically begged, you idiot.”

Too delighted to be embarrassed, I tilted my face upward to kiss him. And at the first taste of his rich, soft lips, I forgot everything else.

Part III: Red

Chapter 7: The Dream

After spending the day throwing myself at Jack and feeling like a silly little slut, the way he dove into that kiss was spectacular. I wasn’t usually so distracted by hotness, but watching him create literal magic in the woods, the way he smiled at the little green sprouts and proudly presented me with a ginseng root of his own making, was fucking devastating.

I didn’t know what magic he had, but I knew he was good and gentle and safe. Added to the inescapable fact that he was fine as fuck, with those lumberjack arms and statuesque face and thick thighs, and what chance did I have? My body had been on high alert for weeks by then, except for a few blessed hours that night I got to revel in being horny. Sitting naked in the deliciously warm bath in front of his fire, thinking of how his gaze lingered on me, how he touched my hands and warmed my skin, and hoping he’d like what he saw when he finally appeared again.

No deadly hunts, no dangerous forests, no lost grandmother, no evil predators. Just the kindest, most handsome man I’d ever met treating me with exquisite care, feeding me from his own kitchen garden, and offering me homemade sweet-smelling herbal remedies for every ache and pain.

But the ache was a good one now, ribs aside. I fisted his soft long underwear in one hand to keep my fingers from roaming, not wanting to spook him with my eagerness, not wanting the moment to end too soon. His lips slid against mine, locked into position, and then opened to me. Warmth flooded my bloodstream. I was still annoyed that my cock had given me away in my sleep, but I was less annoyed now that he was rubbing his gorgeous thigh against it with clear intent.

I nipped at his bottom lip, and he pushed his slick lips against mine so the kiss started all over again. When he tangled a hand in my hair, I tried to hold back the moan that rose in my chest; I tugged at his underwear hard.

He went with it, shifting onto his side so we were front to front. He moved slowly, careful of my bruises. I wasn’t as patient, plastering myself against him. I rocked my hips, arranging my hard cock against the bulge in his long johns.

Huh. Niiiiice.