But no one has ever looked at me with soft hazel eyes and said I make them feel safe enough to share their loneliness.
I lift my hand instinctively, intending to cover my face, to hide whatever expression I’m making, but I stop halfway. Because I realize I haven’t been masking—not once since I walked into her shop tonight.
I’ve been looking at her openly. Letting her see. Letting myself feel. And I can’t remember the last time I did that with anyone.
I sit back slowly, eyes fixed on her.
“What?” she whispers, noticing the shift.
How do I tell her..?
That she’s stripping me open without trying.
That I don’t know how to protect myself from her softness.
That something inside me is waking up…something I thought I killed years ago.
Instead I say the only thing I can manage without losing control.
“Your skin looks as soft as a lepestok,” I say gently.
The words slip out before I can think.
“Lepestok?” she echoes.
“Petal.”
Her breath catches.
I inch closer, drawn by force greater than me. Maybe it’s those wide magical hazel eyes, staring at me with a heart wrenching innocence…or those luscious lips, parted slightly in oblivious anticipation…
But I suddenly can’t hold on to my control anymore.
I slide an arm around her waist, pull her close and claim her mouth. Slowly at first. Testing.
Her lips are soft, tentative…then hungry. She presses closer, fingers curling into my shirt like she needs something solid to hold onto. I deepen the kiss, tilting her chin up, and she melts so beautifully against me that my chest aches. She tastes like sweetness and nerves and something impossibly pure.
When she breaks the kiss for breath, her lips are flushed, swollen, glistening. She looks dazed, like she’s trying to understand the gravity of what’s happening.
“I’ve never…” she whispers.
“It’s your first kiss?” I ask even though the answer is clearly written on her face.
She nods, her blush deepening. “Yes.”
My chest tightens with an emotion that’s hard to describe in the moment—an overwhelming tenderness that I’ve never felt before.
“Oh, my darling…” I brush my knuckles against her face. “You’re unreal.”
Her breath hitches and she leans into my touch. I guide her back gently, laying her down along the couch cushions. She follows easily, trusting, vulnerable, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I say.
“Okay,” she breathes.
I press a soft kiss to her throat, letting my lips linger. She arches into me, a small, helpless sound slipping past her lips.
“Good girl,” I whisper. “So responsive.”
