I blink slowly, just enjoying the sound of my name in his voice.
“Baby?”
“Yeah?”
His hand does that thing I love where he pushes hair behind my ear, his fingertips grazing my cheek and neck before he holds my cheek, and his thumb brushes over my cheekbone. He looks down into my eyes with soft, melted ones and whispers, “Can I kiss you?”
My lips part.
“Just once.”
Instead of replying, I pull the blanket with me as I crawl over him, lying across his lap. With my hand on his cheek, I look into his eyes. “Just once.”
He does that thing again—his fingers brushing my cheek before he cups my face in his hand. His eyes search mine, melting like chocolate, before they flit to my lips. The tip of his tongue darts out subtly, wetting his bottom lip before he looks back up to my eyes.
“Once,” I breathe, but I’m a liar.
But Christian doesn’t kiss me yet, he just tortures me. The side of his nose brushes the side of mine, his breath tickling my lips and his oxygen merging with the molecules of mine.
“Once,” he lies.
His hand snakes into my hair at the back of my head and he kisses me once—softly. It ends too quickly so I steal another one and another one. And we’re both liars because this is how we breathe. We feed off each other’s air—each other’s love and affection. Touches and kisses.
Even when words fail us, we have this. Our bodies, our lips, our hands. When words fail him, he can hold my hand and I’ll translate it in my mind. When words fail me, I hold him close to my chest, and he reads it perfectly.
I’m moaning into his mouth, but we don’t take it any further. Our kisses don’t become any harder or sloppier.
Our kisses are deep, soft, and purposeful.
I’ve missed kissing him like this—kissing just for the sake of kissing. Holding onto him because life is a messy tornado and he’s the only one who will keep me from floating away in the chaos.
Christian pulls away first, untangling his hand from my hair and pushing it all behind my shoulders. “That wasn’t once.”
“But what really counts asone?” I muse.
He sniffs a laugh. “The definition is unclear.”
“Then it was just once.”
Smiling, his arms wrap around me and he adjusts the blanket around us.
I curl against his chest and my eyes flutter close, my body sinking into the comfort of Christian’s body and existence. Overlooking the view, I quietly confess, “My favorite thing you’ve ever gotten me is this ring.”
I hold out my left hand and show him the dainty band with the tiny ruby gem in its center. His birthstone and a ring he giftedmeon his birthday. He’s always been a deviant thing, I think. In the best way. He’s a wicked, deviant thing with perfectly masterminded plans.
Christian takes my hand in his.“It is?”
“It always has been,” I say, and Christian kisses my knuckles. Then the ring on my middle finger. “I’ve never taken off.”
“Not even…”
I shake my head. “You made promises when you gave it to me. Both times.”
“I fully intend to keep them.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he does first. “I know. I know I can’t be trusted to keep those promises but, Lana, I?—”
“I never said that I don’t trust you to keep them.”
