But there’s something else.
The air crackles—half storm, half heartbreak. Every drop of rain sounds louder than my pulse. Neither of us moves.
He’s physically shaking, with what has to be adrenaline surging through his veins like it is mine.
Time stands still. My heart thumps a steady rhythm as my body leans toward his, almost daring him to kiss me.
For a split second, it looks like he might not. He hesitates, leans away from me, and glances over his shoulder.
We’re both dripping, furious, hearts galloping like they forgot how to stop. My hand twitches. So does his. One wrong move, and I’m either kissing him or losing him for good.
When our eyes reconnect, he shakes his head once and opens his mouth. “Fuck it.”
He says “fuck it” like a prayer and a warning in one breath.
Then his mouth is on mine—hot, hungry, rain slick. His hand fists in my hair, and for a second, the whole damn world tips sideways.
When his tongue gains entry to my mouth, it’s as though a whoosh of fresh air fills my lungs. Our mutual, desperate need for each other taking over.
My chest loosens, my shoulders feel lighter, and I waste no time linking my arms behind his head and pulling him to me. This kiss is different than the one in the ballroom in front of my family. It’s our choice; we weren’t cornered or backed into doing it. It’s enthusiastic, it’s consensual, and it’s hot as fuck.
His body is still holding onto stress, but it’s softer, his lips are more commanding than questioning, and his roaming hands move with such confidence my thighs clench.
It takes him a while to come up for air, and he dots kisses along my chin before nibbling on my earlobe. My lips are swollen, my lungs are wrecked, and I still want more. Always more.
“Does it count as breaking the rules if we’re out in public and there’s a chance one of the reporters from the party will take a picture of us kissing in the rain?” His eyes bore into mine with an intensity I feel all over.
“Fuck the rules.” I nuzzle my nose against his.
“That’s fighting talk, Morrigan. You might want to reinforce that boundary because—” A shiver claims my body, which stops him in his tracks.
He tugs his jacket tighter around my shoulders. “You’re cold. We should get you dry.” He cups my face, and I lean into his palm. “But I need to be clear, I want to break lots more rules tonight.”
That makes me smile. “You do?”
He nods.
“List them please.”
“Here? In the rain?”
I shrug. “We’re already wet.” There’s nowhere for us to hide from the downpour, so we just stand there getting soaked.
He clears his throat, scrunching up his face like he’s trying to remember the rules before he digs into his back pocket and pulls a piece of paper out of his wallet.
“You carry them with you?”
He nods. “Every day.”
I bet if it wasn’t so dark out his cheeks would be flaming red.
“Rhiannon, I contemplate breaking this stupid list of rules every fucking day. I need them with me to remind me of what they are, so I don’t fuck this up, fuck you up.”
There’s a lot of subtext to his statement, but I’m not ready to pull it apart.
“Rule number two, kisses for show. That wasn’t for show. When we get back to your house, or my house, I want to kiss you, and I want to use my tongue.”
I roll my lips. He’s quite a by-the-book gent.
