'What's wrong?' he asks, as I push him away. Hearing his soft muffled groan as he releases the clasp on my bra, so effortlessly, so perfectly, nothing awkward or fumbling about it.Įvery move he makes is so graceful, so perfect, so. But after saying it the first time, I've barely said anything else. His fingers snake under my top, sliding along my stomach to the edge of my bra as I close my eyes and whisper, 'I love you.' Words I once kept to myself. All thoughts of manifesting, remote viewing, telepathy-all of that psychic business replaced by something far more immediate, as he pushes me back against a pile of pillows and covers my body with his, the two of us merging like crumbled vines seeking the sun.

He leans in to kiss me, forgoing our lesson. Even knowing we have all of eternity laid out before us doesn't make me any less greedy. 'Just trying to make up for lost time,' I murmur, always so eager for these moments, the times when it's just us, and I don't have to share him with anyone else. 'You're insatiable,' he whispers, shaking his head and moving beside me, as drawn to me as I am to him. 'I think you'll find me a very eager student,' I say, my eyes meeting his-two dark wells of unfathomable depths. And when he looks at me, my whole body grows warm and my breath halts in my throat, and I can't help but wonder if I'll ever get used to his amazing beauty-his smooth olive skin, brown shiny hair, perfect face, and lean sculpted body-the perfect dark yin to my pale blond yang. 'I thought we had nothing but time?' I smile. 'What's the rush?' I fluff my pillow and pat the space right beside me, hoping he'll move away from my desk and come join me. He just shakes his head and says, 'Ever, please. Or, if you're too busy, I'll ask him to stand in, I don't think he'd mind.' I motion toward manifest Damen, laughing when he smiles and winks at me even though his edges are fading and soon he'll be gone.īut the real Damen doesn't laugh.

'I guess you could just go ahead and kiss me. ' I glance between my two boyfriends-one real, one conjured. His eyes always betray him, showing nothing but love. 'What am I going to do with you?' the real Damen asks, attempting a disapproving gaze but failing miserably. Both of them equally tall, dark, and so devastatingly handsome they hardly seem real. 'Nope, nothing fruity about him.' I laugh, smiling at each of my Damens-the replica I manifested before me, and the flesh and blood version beside me. 'You were supposed to think of an orange.

And when he groans, I open my eyes to see for myself. Feel it, see it, touch it, taste it, accept it, manifest it!' he says. Feel its contours with the tips of your fingers, cradle its weight in the palms of your hands, then combine all of your senses-sight, touch, smell, taste-can you taste it?' See its texture, shape, and color-got it?'

Blue moon noël novel