“I… I am.A bit.Not of you.”
“Good.There is no reason to be scared of me.Here, little mouse, I’ll tell you what it will be like.You will know what to expect, and you will not be scared anymore.”
Her breath hitched.
“First, I would rub my thumb across your lower lip.”
She bit her lower lip, as if she could feel his thumb there.
“I would part your lips then move my thumb down your chin, your lovely little neck.I’ll wrap my hand around it and inch my fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck.Because I need to know what it feels like, how soft it is.I’d be gentle.BecauseI’mscared.Scared you’re still hurt.And I’ll want to soothe you with my touch, teach that expanse of skin to know I’ll never hurt it.Never hurt you.”
Her heart danced madly.He could hear it.He placed his hand on her chest, just above her breast, and he could feel its rhythm—wild, impatient.For him.
“Then,” he said, “I would kiss you softly, chastely.You almost will not feel it.In fact, it will infuriate you, and you will grab my head and pull me down, crash my lips to yours so you can have what you want.”
“W-what I want…”
“Me.My kiss.But we’re equal in this, mouse.I want your kiss, too, and I’ll kiss you coaxingly until your mouth moves beneath mine, opens and lets me in.Then…” He ghosted his lips across her cheek, her jaw, finding the sensitive shell of her ear.
“And then?”she whispered.
“Then I sweep my tongue inside and taste you fully.”
She moaned, her body going limp.She wanted it, his kiss.Wanted him.He slipped his arm around her waist to hold her up, to pull her body closer to his.Almost touching.Not touching.
God, he ached for there to be no space between them.
What was this?He had practical reasons for pursuing her.But every day spun a web of tight desire around him until practical seemed very far away indeed.He was supposed to be seducing her, but every word she spoke, every little flick of her hand, wrapped him up more tightly in her control.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he breathed.
“Yes.”
Thank Juno.
He abolished the slim distance between them.
And the brim of her bonnet poked his forehead.“Damn.”He tried again, and the bonnet tipped back but ran into the brick wall she leaned against.“Damn.”Even when he tilted to the side, he could not reach her lips.“Damn, damn, damn this bonnet.”
Breathless, she said, “Shall we be rid of it?”
“Finally.”
She gave him a funny look, but he undid the ribbons, his knuckles brushing against the satin skin of her jaw.Her breaths came in shallow pants.His did too.Ribbons loose, he tossed the bonnet aside.And chuckled.
“It’s back to being its usual color,” he said.“All the shades of brown known to man and a bit of auburn too.”
Her hand flew to her hair.“I—really?”
He nodded.
“Oh no.”She ducked out of his embrace and dashed into the square.
“Bloody hell.”He stomped after her.
But she was gone, slipping out of a gold-glowing streetlamp and into Lady Guinevere’s shop.And he’d not even tasted her lips.
He stayed to watch her until a light flickered on in an upstairs window.The candlelight was so very dim, but he knew the wavy outline of her body.Slim bosom, luxurious hips his fingers wanted to sink into.
