My skin tingles at the proximity, and I realize my own hand has lifted without me noticing, fingers curling around his wrist.
His thumb brushes against my cheek.
“I want to kiss you. Can I?” he asks, voice low.
“Yes.”
His lips meet mine.
Soft.
Slow.
This kiss feels less like a fling and more like a beginning.
My hand slides from his wrist to his hand. My fingers lace with his.
The kiss deepens for a moment, and then he pulls back. His forehead rests against mine.
It’s stupidly, ridiculously perfect.
His eyes lift. “We’re not alone.”
It takes me a second to understand what he means. I turn my head, and all the ladies are there. Standing inside the doorway and at the windows. Even Thumbelina and Dart are scooped up in their owners' hands, watching. Watching like they’ve been watching us the entire time.
I don't doubt it for a second.
Their faces are a mix of amusement, approval, and a wicked satisfaction that sayswe knew it.
I turn back to him. “They might’ve been as excited for this moment as we are.”
He gives a small laugh and squeezes my hand.
“Wow,” he whispers.
I can’t help it.
I laugh too.
“Nettie wanted me to climb that mountain.”
He chokes. “What?”
“The mountain is you.”
“I gathered that.”
“And if we’re not sore tomorrow, we didn’t do it right.”
“Noted.”
“And no half-assing it.”
He grins, that easy, crooked grin that makes my chest tighten. “I never half-ass anything.” He presses a quick kiss to my nose, then turns and sweeps an arm toward the ladies like a showman unveiling a prize. “Let’s get this party started.
The whole space comes alive in a heartbeat.
Laughter bursts, and glasses clink. The smell of warm dough mingles with the smokiness of the campfire.
