“The kitchen,” he said, gesturing toward the blue monstrosity that lurked in the shadows.
“You’re not going to leave, are you?” I asked when it became obvious he was about to do just that.
“I told you I was going to the pub.”
“I know, but if I make something for dinner, wouldn’t you rather eat with us?” I flapped a hand helplessly toward the antiquated kitchen appliances. “Assuming, that is, this stuff still works, which I figure it must, because Lady Sybilla has to get food from somewhere, and she doesn’t look like the sort of person who pops off to the pub to get a bite to eat.”
Alden made a vague gesture, and opened his mouth a couple of times, but didn’t actually say anything. He did look extremely uncomfortable, however.
“Uh-oh. Someone stopped being angry,” I told him. I bit my lip for a minute while I considered what to do. Obviously, I could leave the poor man be, and let him go off to the pub, where he’d probably spend a perfectly contented eveningnottalking to pushy Canadian-American women who had a few semesters of psychology classes under their belt.
But where was the fun in that?
“Would you rather I kissed your cheek again, or should I say something outrageously un-PC so that you get irate at me?”
He stared at me, his brows pulling together in a puzzled frown.
“No, scratch that last one. All I can think of that’s outrageously un-PC is kittens clubbing baby seals, and that just is impossible to conceive of. OK, cheek kiss it is.”
I laid one hand on his arm and leaned in, about to plant a kiss on his slightly stubbly cheek, when his head turned, and my lips brushed his.
I froze, horribly embarrassed, thinking for a moment that I must have miscalculated my aim, and instead of giving him a platonic (if distracting) smooch, I gave him one straight on the kisser.
“Oh,” I said, freezing, which of course meant my mouth didn’t move one smidgen from his mouth. “I’m sorry, I was aiming for your cheek. Oh, man, now my lips are touching yours again. Sorry about that, too. And, uh, for that. Crap, the more I talk, the more I touch you. I should move, shouldn’t I?”
“Yes,” he said, then leaned forward just a smidgen, a tiny little bit, and that was all it seemed to take. One minute I was standing there babbling into his mouth, and the next, it was full-frontal snogging, with my hands tangled in his hair, his arms tight around my back, and all our front parts smooshed together in that time-honored erotic dance that proves so very well the differences between the male and female bodies.
His tongue teased my lips, and without even thinking about whether I should be enjoying kissing a man I’d just met so much, I dabbed at his tongue in a welcoming gesture that urged his tongue to feel right at home in my mouth.
And he did. He tasted, he teased, he tormented my mouth in ways that sent delicious waves of pleasure rolling through me, all of which made me wiggle my hips against him in a wholly shameless way, which I couldn’t for the life of me seem to stop.
He made a groaning noise deep in his chest, one that seemed to light little fires throughout my body, and just as I was seriously thinking about releasing his hair and sliding my hands under his shirt, the door behind him opened, whacking Alden on the back.
“—am just going to help Mercy with dinner, and then—oh!”
Fenice stopped in the doorway, gawking.
Immediately, Alden and I parted, with him blushing and moving to the side a couple of steps, and me stammering, “Uh... hi. I was just... uh... I was just...”
“It’s pretty obvious what you were just doing,” Fenice said with a tight little smile. Behind her, Vandal gave her a shove, and pushed his way into the room behind her.
“What were they doing?” he asked with a frown ashe looked around the kitchen. “Where’s the food? I thought you were going to make an omelet.”
I cleared my throat, not meeting Alden’s eyes as I said with as much composure as I could manage, “I was just distracting Alden from the argument in the garden. There is no omelet. Alden doesn’t care for it, so I thought we could do something else. I’m not sure what food you guys have in stock, though. Come to think of it, I don’t even see a fridge here. Surely you must have a refrigerator?”
I asked the last question of Alden, who, although his color was high, appeared to have taken our little wander down the pathways of smuttiness with aplomb. “There is. It’s in the pantry. In there.” He nodded toward a narrow door at the far end of the kitchen.
Fenice bustled forward. “We have bacon and sausages—my meat-eating brother demanded that. I’m a vegetarian, so I’ll make the omelet if no one else wants to. You all can do bangers and mash if you like.”
“I try to limit the amount of red meat I eat, but I think this qualifies as a time when I can go full-banger,” I said, heading into the pantry to rummage amongst the goods.
To my mild surprise, Alden followed, saying once we were in the small room, “Erm... about that kiss—”
Once again the door opened and bumped against his back. Fenice clicked her tongue in dismay, edged around Alden, and said with a bit of acid, “Are you two going at it again? I thought you just met.”
“We did just meet,” I said at the same time that Alden sputtered, “We were not going at it.”
“Indeed. Well, if you can keep your hands off each other long enough for me to get some eggs and veggies,then you can have all the privacy you need to do...” She waved a hand around vaguely. “Whatever it is you do.”
