Conflict radiated off him, but Lane did not push to find out what it was he rifled with behind those emerald eyes. It felt more personal than the things they had been discussing, and while her curiosity usually got the best of her, she also knew when to leave well enough alone. When he sighed, laughed and revealed just how long it had been since he had last slept with someone, her eyes widened. Sure, the symbols on his flesh were daunting, but he was handsome enough, he could have gotten laid if he wanted to. It certainly had not taken much to get into her bed.<br/><br/>A cultural echo told her that she should feel guilty about that, but she didn't. Lane could not place her finger on exactly why, but this didn't feel as new or abnormal as it probably should have. Maybe it was the whole old soul thing, perhaps the soul she had didn't feel odd because things like this had happened before, even with the man in front of her. That thought actually did make her stomach twist a little, again, Lane wasn't sure why. She sighed as well, there would be time for existentialism later.<br/><br/>"I've definitely considered putting myself first. Often. I still manage to put everyone else before myself," she replied. "It's a bad habit, but we all have our afflictions."<br/><br/>If she had not pulled her mind out of deep thoughts, he would have done it for a moment later, with the feel of his erection at the cleft of her ass, his hands on her breasts and that tongue,<i>oh that tongue,</i>on her neck. Lane bit her lip and pressed her eyes closed, arching in his arms. When he stopped, it was jarring, both because of the lack of touch and the edge of the word "No." It stung a little, but the salve came quickly, as he began to explain why he would deny her help.<br/><br/>"No, you-You're right. That would be a bad thing." She said. He had watched or at least heard about the undoing of her ancestor, a woman he apparently cared for and possibly loved. Lane would not want to put him through that sort of torture again, even if she meant well with the offer.<br/><br/>Lane realized the depth of the trouble she was in, because of that denial. There was a burden in empathy and it was a double edge sword. On one side, she found herself constantly interacting with people that sensed her ability to mend their energies and those people would feed off what she could give until they ran her dry. Though Empaths were rare, they tended to attract people who were basically energy vampires, pathological liars, manipulators, drama queens. Lane had met, befriend and dated her fair share. Even those that weren't keen to drain her were often more than willing to take the peace of mind she could give with her abilities.<br/><br/>James was the other edge of that sharp sword, though he may not realize it. Someone that denied her help, probably needed to more than others. He felt like the kind of person she could drown in, if she was not careful, and the fact that he was willing to protect her from own good nature, only made it more enticing.<br/><br/>"Oh, we are going to be trouble, aren't we?" she whispered back against his lips after he made his promise. Her tone was ardent and careful at the same time, as the words echoed her question from hours ago, in her shop. He was trouble, but she got the feeling together they would be something else entirely. Gasoline and a match. Even with the little she knew about him, it was obvious he had a the past with turmoil weaved through it. She wondered if he felt it too, that sensation that they were on the edge of something they could not turn back from once they jumped, but she dared not speak that aloud.<br/><br/>It was selfish, she knew that. She wanted the danger and the thrill he represented and the connection as well. No one had really understood her, not her parents, the other witches in her coven, and definitely not Steve. She should have voiced her concerns clearly, torn herself from the bed and from the man in it, and done the sensible thing...<br/><br/>Instead, she pressed her lips back against his, opening her mouth fully to his. If it was a metaphorical ledge, Lane was ready to take a giant, graceful leap. Her hands slid to his hips and she guided him over her, sliding one of her legs so he could rest easily between her legs, him above and her below. She broke the kiss to take in a slow, steadying breath against the curve of the flesh where his neck met his shoulder.<br/><br/>"I'll be around. Not going anywhere." She panted out against him.<br/><br/>Lane pressed her lips to his neck, peppering his skin with a few light kisses before she ran her teeth over the same spot in a soft bite, then she returned to soothing presses of her lips against his flesh. At the same time, her hips ground out gentle circles against his. Like him, she had the idea of taking her time with this, or she just wanted to drive him slowly made until the levy broke, both required a slow crescendo. She wrapped her legs around his waist, providing herself with a bit more leverage as she worked to continue the friction between their bodies.<br/><br/>She captured his lips again with hers, her hands came up from his hips, they again slid along the tattoos and raised skin of his flanks and his chest, before they settled upon his cheeks. This kiss did lack some of the fever of the first time they had sex, but none of the passion. That fire still burned brightly in the almost amber color of her eyes.