“I’ve been imagining the different ways you might say that to me for so long, and this was way sexier than anything in my head.”
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” I swallow, unable to break the gaze. This is ridiculous. Twenty-four hours ago, she was ready to kill me. Now she’s inviting me to kiss her.
And I really fucking want to.
Instead, I place a chaste kiss on her cheek and get up to grab some napkins.
“What was that?” she demands when I return.
“I thought I’d give you a chance to change your mind.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin even though I’m fairly certain there isn’t anything there.
“I’ve had ten years to change my mind,” she says with laughter. She leans forward and, before I realize what she’s doing, presses her lips to mine. Her mouth is closed and her eyes are open, cautiously watching my reaction, but there’s no way in hell I’m pulling away. Instead, I slide one arm around her shoulders and let the tip of my tongue tease the seam of her lips.
Those gorgeous blue eyes of hers flutter closed, and her mouth opens just enough for her tongue to toy with mine. For at least a minute, maybe two, we sit there with our lips pressed together, our tongues doing a gentle, playful dance. I didn’t plan to, but my mouth seems to have a mind of its own and deepens the kiss, demanding a little more…and she lets me.
When I press my tongue fully into her mouth, she makes a sound that’s the purest, sweetest, most enticing thing I’ve ever heard. It isn’t a moan or a sigh or a groan, but more of a whisper, as if her soul is talking to mine. I don’t know what that means, but I’m not going to think about it too hard because right now the most beguiling woman I’ve ever met is kissing me back. Kissing me like we kissed ten years ago.
Except this is better; we aren’t hiding from anyone, and I fucking never want it to end.
“Wow.” When we finally pull apart, her eyes are glassy and her lips a little swollen. She looks thoroughly well-kissed, and knowing that I’m the man who’d put that look on her face gets me hard as a rock.
“Now look what you’ve done,” I murmur, nuzzling her neck. “You’ll have to walk in front of me for at least an hour.”
She smiles. “Or we could just sit here and make out. We have ten years to make up for.”
I draw her head back to mine, taking her mouth with a little more finesse this time, stroking her tongue more urgently, hoping to get her as worked up as I am. I don’t know what my end game is, because I want her so much more than I thought I would, but it feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.
“Should we be doing this here?” she whispers against my mouth.
“Probably not, but if I get you alone, things are going to go a lot further than kissing.”
“That’s kind of what I was hoping.”
“Shannon, I don’t?—”
“Shut up,” she says with a soft smile, pressing her forefinger against my mouth. “I’m a grown woman, and I’ll kiss you if I want to. Right here in the middle of the Christmas market too.”
“I like the sound of that.”
So that’s what we do.
Though we keep our hands and body language relatively chaste, we kiss like horny teenagers who are away from their parents’ prying eyes for the first time. At some point, when it seems like there’s nowhere to go unless we want to strip down right here in the square, we exchange a meaningful look. When we finally pull apart, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything to say, so we finish eating our potato pancakes and then she slides her hand into mine as we start to wander.
I’m sporting a fairly uncomfortable boner, but that’s okay because she’s worth every second of discomfort.
I untuck my T-shirt and let it cover my crotch area as we walk. We join the throngs of people exploring the busy market, stopping at different booths as she finishes some Christmas shopping and I even do some. Though Erik and his family certainly didn’t need any material items, I pick up a few things for the kids.
“Where will you be at Christmas?” she asks after we each bought a handful of gifts.
“Probably with the royal family in Limaj,” I say. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless I get a better offer.” I didn’t plan to say that, and it would be extraordinarily inconvenient, but the words pop out before I can stop them.
“I don’t know what I could offer you better than Christmas with royalty,” she says quietly.
I stop walking and pull her against me. “Seriously? You think the fact that they’re royalty is better than being with the beautiful, sexy woman I’ve been fantasizing about for a decade?”
