Their bodies were so close she could feel the heat emanating from his skin. Anticipation pulsed through her, making her feel weak in the knees. Then, slowly, he lowered both of their hands, not letting go of her fingers as he brought her hand to his mouth.
He dipped his head, pressing a kiss to her wrist. A gasp rose in her throat, and she bit her bottom lip, feeling dizzy. He lifted his dark eyes to hers, watching her reaction. Neither of them said a word, but she was sure desperation was written on her face.
She clutched the edge of the bookshelf with her free hand, trying to hold herself steady. He moved his mouth lower, biting the edge of her sweater sleeve and dragging it down to reveal the skin of her forearm.
He pressed another kiss to the sensitive skin below her wrist. Sparks skittered down her spine. She released a shuddering breath, her entire body aching.
“Luke,” she whispered, and he propped her hand onto hisshoulder. She clutched the fabric of his sweater as he stepped closer, the space between them disappearing entirely.
“Em,” he whispered back, voice rough.
Ever so gently, he kissed her cheek, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt his thumb brush against her cheekbone, and she opened her eyes again to see his finger was wet. He had wiped away a tear. She hadn’t even noticed when it had slipped out.
Their gazes locked.
“Aren’t our eyes made to be torn out, and our hearts the same?” he asked, voice rough.
Her heart lurched. She knew where the rest of the passage went, it was one of her favorite parts:You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love.
There was a confession on his face, and she was afraid, but still, she leaned in.Finally, her body sighed, just as his lips brushed against hers—
And they heard a crash.
Chapter 23
At the same time, Emmeline and Luke looked to where the noise had come from. Panic rose in her throat and she rushed out, Luke a step behind her, only to find Motu covered in paint.
He had jumped from paint tray to paint tray, knocking the last one over. Luckily, she had covered the table and floor with newspapers, but Motu was now multicolored, his black scales dotted with blue, pink, green, and yellow.
Her heart was still racing from the brush of Luke’s lips against hers, but she now had to deal with this disaster of a baby dragon. He truly had terrible timing.
“Motu, no!” Emmeline cried as he jumped up, his wings flapping. Paint splattered in the air; she rushed forward, trying to stop the paint from hitting the shelves. Rogue flicks of paint landed on her, and she scowled.
“Stop!” she scolded. Motu froze. “Sit,” she demanded, and he sat down in the tray of pink paint.
“Seriously, Motu?” Luke muttered, shaking his head at the baby dragon. Covered in pink paint, Motu looked up at bothof them innocently, as if he hadn’t just ruined the moment between her and Luke.
Her lips tingling at the memory, she went over and picked Motu up in her arms, not trusting him to sit still.
“I’ll get paper towels,” Luke said, disappearing. Paint quickly covered her hands and arms, dripping down onto her clothing as she stood on top of the newspapers.
“There goes this outfit,” she muttered unhappily. Motu tried to give her an adorable expression, as if he had had great fun, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t act cute with me.”
By then, Luke had returned with paper towels, and she tried shifting Motu to one arm, but, god, he really was fat. She could hardly hold him. Luke bit back a smile.
“Why don’t you set him down?” he said. “I think he knows not to jump, now.” She nodded, and Luke moved the paint trays off the table, making space.
Emmeline looked at the baby dragon, eyes warning. “Don’t move,” she ordered, carefully putting him back down atop the newspapers covering the table.
Motu calmly sat down, and she sighed. Her hair fell forward, and she tried tossing it back, but anytime she moved, her bangs and the shorter layers came bouncing forward again. Her hands were covered in paint, so she couldn’t move her hair back properly.
“Let me,” Luke said, noticing her struggle. “Do you have a clip somewhere?”
“My purse,” she replied, feeling surprised. She could have washed her hands, then gotten the clip herself.
She was so used to doing things herself, but he hadnoticed and didn’t hesitate to help. It was such a little thing, but it made her heart soften toward him.
Luke returned with her clip, then went behind her. She tilted her head back, and his fingers brushed against the back of her neck as he gathered her hair together. He twisted, and the slight tug sent her pulse racing. It reminded her of his hand in her hair when she was tangled in her dress, the warmth of his body seeping deep into her bare skin. She felt weak at the knees.
