He stepped forward, deliberate as ever, though something in him had already unraveled. He reached up and brushed a single raven lock of hair from her face, his knuckles grazing her cheek.
She didn’t flinch. “Silas, I…” she muttered.
Her voice washed over him like the first ray of sunlight after a stormy night. “Say it again,” he breathed.
“Silas,” she repeated, this time slower.
“Helena,” he looked deeply into her eyes, “you’re safe.”
She only nodded, her lips parting.
He bent his head. Slowly.
But she tilted her face to meet him. No hesitation.
And then,God help him, he kissed her.
It began as a breath, a suggestion. The lightest brush of his lips to hers.
He meant to hold back. To taste, and retreat. But the moment her mouth responded to his, softly and tentatively, he lost all reason.
The kiss deepened like a drop into water, both inevitable and unstoppable. His hand cupped her jaw, the pad of his thumb skimming her cheek as her lips parted beneath his.
She made a small, aching sound, and his body responded instantly, heat flooding his veins.
He groaned, the sound escaping before he could swallow it.
Every inch of him burned. He pulled her closer, drawn like a man who’d gone too long in the cold, now offered fire. Her hands fisted in his coat. Her body pressed against his, a perfect, maddening fit.
It should have been too much.
No; it wasn’t enough.
His mouth moved over hers with quiet ferocity, slowly, like a promise wrapped in hunger. She tasted like fear and hope, like defiance wrapped in silk. He devoured it all, branding her with every stroke of his lips, every breath they shared.
A knock sounded at the door.
Silas tore himself away from her, breath heaving. He clenched his jaw, willing his body to calm from the wild need that had overtaken him.
Closing his eyes, he counted to three, then five, commanding composure.
He heard the rustle of Helena’s gown as she turned toward the door.
When he opened his eyes, Amelia was peeking in, her eyes wide with concern.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, her gaze bouncing between the two of them.
“Everything is fine,” he replied, gratified that his voice didn’t betray the chaos boiling beneath his skin.
Amelia’s eyes narrowed. She studied Helena, then flicked a suspicious glance his way. After a pause, she let it go.
“Helena, could you come and help me with something?” she asked gently.
“Of course.” Helena took Amelia’s arm, guiding her from the room without so much as a glance back.
Silas sank into the chair she’d just left, exhaling sharply. His heart was still pounding, every nerve on fire. He pressed his palms to his thighs, trying to ground himself.
He had kissed her.
