Did she want him to kiss her again?
The way he was staring at her felt like a solid, warm point of contact, as if his hands were skimming over her bare skin. Goose pimples erupted over her skin, the tips of her breasts stiffening, rising beneath her stays. Warmth liquefied and pooled in her belly. Her heart thumping, she forced herself to meet his gaze.
“It’s not—” she licked her lips. “It’s not what I thought my first kiss would be like.”
“I can remedy that,” he said and reached out. Grasping her arm, his fingers were strong, callused against the sensitive underside of her wrist. He pulled her from her seat and right against him.
Her body landed on his, a shocking collision of softness against hardness. Before she could gather her wits, his mouth sealed over hers, his kiss stealing her breath.
Everything about him felt right; familiar yet new and exciting. The texture of his lips, hard yet silky, made her feel swoony. She had a hint of his taste: darkly male and tantalizing.
His tongue flickered over her lips, asking for entrance, and when she opened for him, his tongue swept through her mouth in a powerful sweep. Squished against his hard chest, her breasts felt full and sensitive, the stiff tips chafing against her corset.
Her thoughts turned hazy as his kiss consumed her senses. She tasted faint coffee and whisky; his lips were firm, warm, and roaming over hers.
There wasn’t anything to do but to surrender to him, to the need now bubbling inside her. She melted into his hold, at the demanding plunge of his tongue dissolving her resistance.
She tried to pull him closer, but he cupped her face and controlled the kiss. The rasp of his stubble against her cheeks sent a wave of heat over her skin.
Held steady by him, she felt both overwhelmed yet safe. When she pulled away to suck in a breath, he pulled away to tongue the rim of her ear, and she quivered. He sucked the lobe into his mouth, and the warm tug seemed to pull at her very core, releasing a damp gush.
She was panting and perspiring now, tingling in unmentionable places. She was aware of a gnawing sensation in her belly, a craving that had nothing to do with wanting food.
This must be desire.
Dimly, she realized that the carriage was still moving, the dull sound of the horses clip-clopping along just outside the window.
This was the same Cedric, and she was the same Ariadne… yet everything felt different…changed.
She peeled her eyes open and gazed at him in wonder. “I never knew.”
“Knew what?” She tried to explain.
“What all the…the fuss about kissing was.”
His lips curved. “And now you do?”
“I’d say so,” her chest heaved as she sat back into her abandoned seat. Swallowing, she asked, “Does this… does this change anything?”
“I do not know how substantial it will be,” he said while rolling his neck. “But yes, it does change something.”
Ariadne did not push him to explain more; all she could do was reel with the reality that she had had her first real kiss, one she did want and felt a bit fearful that this might have birthed something she would never get again.
“I want to invite one of my sisters to come and see me,” she said. “Would that be all right?”
“Yes,” he replied, “Again, Ariadne, you do not need to ask me permission to do things you want. All I ask is that you wait for a while before this blows off from the scandal sheets and the breakfast buffets of the ton. After that, as long as it is safe and necessary, you can do whatever you want.”
She smiled, “I’ll remember that.”
The next morning, she had made it to her meeting room to find a schedule on her desk right next to a stack of mail.
It clearly highlighted the priorities of her day. Cedric had revised her schedule with written-in periods for her to speak with the land manager and garden, times to interact with Emily, and of course, periods were also designated for rest and leisure activities.
So the man is not as inflexible as he seems.
She was beginning to realize that Cedric did not show his affection with words, but his actions conveyed his affection louder than words ever could.
Ariadne was also realizing that Cedric was very, very hesitant on making a connection— any connection, not for the fear of being judged, but because of being hurt.
