A heavy silence stretches between us, filled only by the pop of a log and the distant howl of wind outside. His eyes hold mine, and in them, I see the argument forming, the refusal of my cold logic.
Then, without much warning outside of the dip in the cushion, he moves.
Slowly, hesitantly, one of his hands lifts. It hovers in the space between us for a heartbeat before his fingers brush my cheek. The touch is startling in its gentleness, a stark contrast to his callused hands.
My breath hitches, trapped in my throat. He’s warm. Far warmer than my skin. Without thinking, I lean into his touch, wanting to feel more of it.
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he murmurs.
Sirens blare in my head, screaming at me to pull back before I completely mess everything up by caving into temptation this great. But I don’t. I can’t even part my lips to speak, not when he’s staring down at me like I’m worth more than I really am.
We’re just looking at each other, his thumb making a slow, absent stroke along my cheekbone. His mouth presses into a firm line, and I don’t realize I’m staring at them until it’s too late. The damage is done.
I want to kiss him.
The desire is a clear, shocking line in my mind. He looks like he wants to kiss me, too. There’s only one thing stopping him, and it’s… me.
Maybe… one kiss would be okay. A test. A single, definitive moment. When I don’t feel even a spark—when it’s as cold and disappointing as every other attempt—then I’ll know. I’ll be able to move on, past this strange, snow-bound fascination.
This could be good for me. Closure in the shape of a man I’ll never see again.
For the pure need to move past this, and not for anything else, I lean in and let whatever happens…happen.
5
Gavin
It’s embarrassing to admit, but I haven’t kissed a woman in nearly two decades. Not because I never wanted to, but not many of them want to get their mouths anywhere near me. Especially when most of my last “relationships” have felt like nothing but a trial period.
But Daphne? She moves first. Like she’s harboring this same kind of need boiling her up on the inside, she has her mouth on mine before my brain can even register what is happening. Once she’s right there, it’s an immediate realization that now, I don’t want her anywhere else.
Touching her was risky enough of a decision to begin with, but this is an entirely different level. There isn’t any going back now, is there? Not now, not now that I know how soft her lips are. Pillowy soft. Like I want to memorize where they meet with my tongue.
She lets out a little sigh as I coax her in my direction. Knowing damn well that I’m not going to be satisfied with just one kiss, I lose myself in a second. By the third, she’s halfway across the couch. With one hand pressed against my thigh, and the other tickling my neck, she sighs so sweetly.
One of us should probably call an end to this, right?
The soft moan that leaves her lips evaporates that thought instantly.
With a soft gasp, I reach for her and tug her onto my lap. Needing her closer, needing to be able to get my hands on her, she easily rests against my lap, going so far as to rub against me to get closer. The friction is all my body needs to catch fire.
“Fuck, Daphne…” Hands settling against her hips, she squirms when I squeeze. “This is…”
Great. Amazing. Fantastic.
“Terrible…” Finishing my sentence for me in a breathy groan, her hips shift. “Why do you have to be a good kisser?”
Stroking my pride there, my fingers tease the hem of her sweater. “Does it have to be terrible?”
If I can just keep kissing her like this, then maybe I can take the next step toward convincing her to try again.
Pulling back, she bites down on her now swollen lip as she considers my question. Blushing so prettily, she squirms against my lap. Instead of pulling herself off, she lingers there like she’s got no other place she wants to be.
“Ithasto. Gavin… I’m not…” Pausing, her face pinches into a frown. It takes all my strength not to kiss it away. “There are rules to this whole thing. Just being here… doing this…” Struggling with her words, I can see the conflict clashing around in her eyes.
Cupping her cheek, I stroke it with my thumb. “Your goal was to find me a wife.” Grazing her bottom lip next, I take in the small tremble. “Well, you’re either going to break a worldmatchmaking record, or you’re going to end up wasting your time. I don’t need to look again. I want you.”
Saying more than I ever thought I’d ever be able to, it feels good to get my feelings out in the air.
