“Aimalee. It’s all right. I feel it too.” She buried her face in his chest. “But…” She glanced up. Tears again. Damn. “But what?” She cupped his cheek. “But for you it is the spell. It could be any woman and you would want her. It could be Sorcha, for God’s sake.” He choked back a mortified laugh. “Never say it.” His expression must have been pretty horrified because she laughed as well. And then she sobered. “You know it’s true. This passion you feel for me—it’s been the same with all the other women the lamp has brought to you.” “No. Not really.” The emotions Aimalee evoked went far deeper. For instance, before he met her he would never have bothered to resist seducing a woman simply because she was upset. Not when the enchantment was upon him. He would have drawn the incantation upon her and taken what he wanted, needed. With Aimalee, he could resist. It nearly killed him but could resist. Hell, with Aimalee, he wanted to try. Blind, mindless sex simply didn’t have the same allure as holding her tight in his arms, knowing that alone gave her pleasure.
