My impulse to pull away was quieted as Kit began massaging his fingers over mine, taking each digit individually and rubbing them in deep, soothing swirls. Silence filled the space between us as I stared at his perfect hands working feeling and comfort into my disfigured one.
When my gaze finally traveled to Kit’s face, his expression was calmly focused. My stomach fluttered, and I didn’t breathe for several long moments, sitting so still that Kit finally glanced up.
“Pen?” His eyes met my wide ones. “Everything all right?”
My mouth had gone dry, so my voice came out rough. “Why did you make me this?” I laid the hand he wasn’t holding on top of the open sketchbook.
Kit frowned. “Yours was full.”
He made it sound so simple, but I knew it wasn’t. To do such a thing in secret, stealing time when I wasn’t with him in the smithy, then stashing the gift away for the perfect moment, spoke of a kind of care I couldn’t easily dismiss.
“You didn’t have to,” I said.
“I wanted to,” he replied.
He’d stopped rubbing my fingers and stroked them instead, gingerly touching the discolored flesh. They still throbbed, but the sharper pains had subsided.
I didn’t have words to express how much it all meant, so I leaned into him instead, catching him with a kiss.
My lurch forward nearly toppled his chair backward, and he grabbed onto me to keep from falling. His smile against my lips was the best thing I’d ever felt.
I’d planned to pull back so as not to risk knocking us both from our seats onto the kitchen floor, but I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him again. His joy made him all the more striking.
We stayed close, nose to nose as I murmured, “For someone so new to all of this, you're quite good at it.”
Kit’s eyes crinkled at the corners with a look of such genuine happiness it made my heart leap.
“I'm glad you think so,” he said.
Taking me by both hands, Kit rose from his chair. He led me out of the kitchen to the living room couch where he hit the seat of the sofa and fell onto his back. I eagerly crawled on top of him.
He’d been dozing before but seemed wide awake now and responsive to every touch I visited on him. I set my knees on either side of his thighs, then bent to shove his shirt over his head. Stripped to his waist, Kit arched up into me, thumbing through the buttons on my shirt and pushing it off my shoulders.
We collided, skin on skin and sharing heat. Each kiss and swipe of my tongue was fueled by desperation.
Kit’s hands roamed over me, grabbing, dragging, and exploring my body in a way that sparked my senses. I rolled my hips against him in a needful way. I was already hard,and he couldn’t have missed the feeling of my erection pressed against his.
“Kit,” I stammered while his fingers dug in between my ribs.
He looked at me with his eyes afire. I didn’t want to stop or slow any part of this. It felt right, like we’d been building toward it for weeks or months. Maybe forever.
“Kit, I want you.” My voice wavered, and I swallowed before attempting again, “Can I have you?”
He searched my face with one brow drawn down in question, but he didn’t speak. I remembered our conversation some weeks ago, and how he felt about people being proprietary, so I added, “Will you belong with me?”
His pensive look persisted. “Don’t I already?”
I wondered if I’d said it wrong, or if I’d overstepped again, gotten too caught up and rushed things. But I’d never felt so deeply enamored of anyone, so I had to try again.
“I’d like to court you, Kit.” I couldn’t make it any clearer. “May I?”
All signs of his confusion left, exchanged for something I didn’t recognize. The hesitation was maddening, and I shivered with anxious energy. I was beginning to fear he’d reject me when he leaned back on both arms and sighed.
“I don’t have any cows, you know.” The slightest smile crossed his face. “For a dowry.”
My nerves bubbled out in an abrupt laugh, and I threw myself at him in a smothering embrace. We collapsed onto the couch cushions, a tangle of arms and legs and laughter.
“I don’t need cows,” I said between snickers. “Just you.”
