Read Online Playing with Fire by Tamara Morgan - Free Book Online

no way Ian could stop himself from drawing her close, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other clasping her hand firm. She felt natural in the way she molded against him, accepting his nearness as though they’d never been separated by circumstance or time.
    It would have been easy to feel silly, to overanalyze the situation, but Ian dropped his guard and let himself revel in the moment. And even though he heard no sound other than the sudden rush of blood through his body, he gave in. It was music enough.
    They danced.
    It was a simple waltz—the only dance Ian knew. He’d been a groomsman in a friend’s wedding once, and the bride had insisted the men live up to the promises of their black tuxedos. One-two-three, one-two-three. Even he could handle that.
    Well, theoretically. No number of ballroom dancing lessons could have prepared Ian for the way Fiona moved against him, allowing him to take the lead so swiftly and surely that she was like a Claymation doll in his hands. A sound, low and soft, escaped her, and her head came to rest just at his shoulder. Her other hand balled up against his back.
    He spun her out of the room. His living room was small and cluttered with kitschy pieces of furniture, but there was enough space for the two of them to continue moving—with each other and against each other.
    The fabric of her tank top under his hand was incredibly warm to the touch, but so thin he could feel how soft she was underneath it. It bunched under his hand as he gripped her tighter, twirled her faster.
    And just like that, they stopped, even though the room kept spinning. Fiona broke away, panting heavily, her oh-so-red lips parted and inviting. The space between them, a few inches at the most, felt like miles. Something was wrong.
    “Fiona, I—”
    She shook her head, and her arms wrapped around her middle. “No. Let me talk.”
    He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
    “All that stuff Neil said before, about me?”
    “Neil’s an idiot. He has a hard time seeing past the work we’re doing, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t talked to a human being other than me or his mom in years. We’ve been at this for so long—looking for you, the Fireball, for so long. Do you have any idea how special you are? Do you have any idea what your existence means ?”
    He felt a familiar excitement mounting in his chest. Fiona was special. She was proof that humans could be so much more than what their genes dictated. They could grow, adapt, improve—reach unheard of potentials. It was all he’d ever wanted. He reached toward her, ready to tell her all of this, but her eyes filled with tears, cutting him off.
    “Oh, I know what it means, and it’s not even close to glamorous, having these powers. The whole idea of the conversion serum looks good and sounds good—from the outside. But the reality sucks, Ian. Do you know what I’ve given up? Do you have any idea what it’s like to be me?”
    “Tell me.” His words were hoarse.
    She pulled her hands out from her sides and held them palms up, looking at them with so much loathing it hurt to watch. Just above the surface of each hand, a little ball of light hovered, yellow and burning, the air around them warped with the waves of heat.
    “I can’t touch anyone,” she said, closing her fists and her eyes simultaneously. “The fire, it comes whenever I experience strong emotions. Anger. Frustration.” Her eyes popped open and she looked at him. “Lust.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    She laughed, but there was a dearth of humor to it that was almost scary. “I can’t touch anyone and no one can touch me. The fire burns too high. I voluntarily put something in my body that has made me incapable of having sex—of participating in any normal human relationship. For eight long years. I have been without anything for eight years.”
    “But I was just touching you.” Ian moved closer, trying to make contact again, but she jumped away. “Fiona—I was just touching