Which was as good an explanation as any as to why she could teach Jackson. She’d never met anyone as steady and reliable. She felt safe with him. She laughed to herself as she crossed the room and hitched herself up onto a tall desk. He didn’t always like how safe she felt with him.
He had paused by the door to fiddle with a rattling air vent. He hated distractions while he worked. While his back was still turned, Lena pulled out the small knife she’d palmed at breakfast. He needed an ego boost after failing abysmally at every attempt to use the Dust offensively. She could give him that. What he couldn’t handle healing, she could take care of herself.
She drew the blade across the inside of her hand. The skin parted and blood pooled in her cupped palm. Jackson turned at the sound of her soft gasp.
She bit her lip. “New lesson.”
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. “I hate it when you do that.”
“You can’t practice healing if you don’t have something to heal. You’re an amazing healer, Jackson. You’ll be better than me someday. You need the chance to practice.”
“I don’t. Not if it means you hurt yourself.”
“Well, done is done,” she said. “Are you going to come fix me or leave me to sit here and bleed?”
“I should let you bleed.” He crossed to where she perched on the desk. He shook his head at her, a final admonishment before he took her hand in both of his. Even when angry, he had a gentle touch.
As he focused, her hand warmed. Her flesh knit back together. When he finished, he exhaled in relief and rubbed his thumb across her palm. He continued stroking even after he’d rubbed away the blood.
It felt good. It kept her focus solely on Jackson.
He sighed. “Please don’t do that again.”
She laughed. “You know if you couldn’t heal it, I could. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. It’s a big deal to me. I don’t like the idea of you being hurt. There’s been enough pain in your life, dammit. You’re overdue to feel good for a change.”
She’d been waiting for the opening. She flashed him a grin. “What did you have in mind?”
He tried to lean back, but she shifted their grips and tugged on his hand to keep him close. She was small, but she was strong. And Jackson never put up much of a fight anyway.
He sighed. The sound fell somewhere between frustrated and longing. When he spoke, his voice was husky. “Lena. This isn’t a good idea.”
“You say that every time,” she whispered. She slid one hand up his arm and pulled him closer.
He took a step, angled his body toward her, and leaned in. His free arm slipped around her back, sliding her down the desk until her body pressed into him. He leaned his head down, touching his forehead to hers. His breath warmed her lips. His whiskey gold eyes, inches away, stared into hers. “That’s because every time it’s a bad idea.”
“And why is that?” She curled her hand around the top of his arm where the thick muscle rounded up into shoulder. His shoulders were her favorite feature.
He shook his head, a small movement, before he pressed his lips to hers. Like every time before, electricity arced between them, fed by their control of the Dust. With every small fluttery kiss across her lower lip, it was pressure and electricity and release. He exhaled hard against her skin, and she caught her own breath. Jackson’s kisses were like nothing she’d ever experienced with the normal boys of Azcon. These kisses were filled with electric heat and longing as the Dust surged inside of her. She’d only felt that swirling, gathering pressure from the Dust with one person before….
She pushed away the intrusive thought. Rejecting the memory of Reyes, she leaned into Jackson’s kiss.
He lifted his hand from her back to stroke her hair back from her face. His eyes were dizzy. “Ah, Dust, Lena, you have no idea how much I wish you could be mine.”
She curved her lips up under his. “I can be.”
He tightened his hand around the side of her head, gentle pressure, and his lips moved on hers. The soft kiss disappeared.
She’d waited for this hard, electric kiss, the one that took her breath away. Heat curled within her, pouring down from their joined mouths and pooling deep inside like the thick maple syrup she loved so much. She exhaled softly through her nose, and her breath fanned back to her from his cheek.
As if the movement of air across his skin was a signal, Jackson moved his lips on hers, parting them both. He darted his tongue out to taste her.
She moved with him, matching his slow pace. Their lips spread a little more as he turned into the kiss, one hand sliding across to the back of her neck, and the tips of their tongues touched.