“Coming from me?” she asked shyly.
“Ani,” he said seriously. “I want you to know, I—I—”
He hadn’t said these words in forever, not since Kami, but this time, it felt so different, not just lust or infatuation. It feltreal.
He stalled on speaking but suddenly remembered Audre Lorde’s words, buried in his memory, a passage he had flagged and committed to memory. Like he knew, one day, he wouldneed them: “What is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood.”
In Ani, he saw the woman who challenged him, who made him laugh, who shared her gifts with so much humility. He saw her in his too-short winery T-shirt, he saw her straddling him and bringing him back to life, he saw her private smile, he saw her under the water. And he had to tell her.
“—I really,reallylike you.”
Her eyes searched his like a lifeline, like his words were saving her somehow. Her brows pulled together, her expression a mix of seriousness, vulnerability, and shock. The fairy lights of the tent surrounded her lovely face like a halo.
The bridge of the song began, the lyrics desperate and pleading.
“Raffi, I—”
His chest tightened. Every muscle in his back drew taut, bracing for her response.
“—I feel the same way.”
And that was it. The confirmation he needed, the verbal key to his long-locked heart. Not an end but a beginning.
Raffi, still holding her, placed their joined hands against his heart. Let her feel it pound. Let her know how wild she drove him.
If he didn’t kiss her right now, he might die.
He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed, taking in the moment.
“Please…” she pleaded.
The word cracked him open.
Shock, joy, and want all collided in one sweeping rush thatleft him dizzy. Their lips hadn’t even touched and already he felt undone.
She asked. And God, if she asked him for anything, he’d give it. Gladly.
His voice came out low and edged with restraint. “Ani, baby, I’m going to kiss you now.”
She took a huge breath, like she was gasping for air. “Yes. Yes,” she begged.
She hardly finished her sentence before Raffi tilted his head and pressed his lips against hers. The softest, sweetest lips he’d ever tasted.
He’d needed this. He’d needed her. Her and no one but her.
His hand slid from her back, up to her neck, threading her hair in his fingers. She moaned into his mouth, and he felt himself nearly blacking out at the ache in her want.
It couldn’t be real. Every kiss that had happened before this was a nonevent, simply skin on skin, but this—her lips, her mouth, her moans—set his entire body aflame.
He pulled back momentarily so he could see her pretty face, her sparkling eyes.
“Raffi,” she whispered, “that was—”
God, her voice, he could listen to it all day long. Soft, breathless, laced with the remnants of whatever spell they’d just fallen into together. Their hands were still clasped against his heart, and he knew she could feel it racing.
He kept his voice low, warm. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
Her breath hitched, and something about it settled deep inside him, the way her reaction to him felt just as intense as his to her. He wanted to give her more—not just this, not justtouch, but all of it. Everything. The kinds of things that stayed, that mattered.
