Only the reality was harsher. Poor timing. Traitorous stakes. Painfully bittersweet.
There was a straightforward way to let him down. A direct reply to ensure keeping his distance would be easier. The confession I’d been about to drop, which would guarantee his disgust, replacing devotion with hatred. It wouldn’t be gentle or benevolent. Instead, it would stab him through. And if I cared for him at all, I would do as he bade.
My fingers wiggled, and Aire released them. His brow crimped as I traced their shape. Like this, I memorized that look before it vanished three minutes from now, when I finally said what I came here to say.
The hour closed in around us, lathering the sky in dark shades. The instant my fingers touched the margins of his lips, Aire clutched my hips and hoisted me against his chest. Then he went still, a mountain carved into the shape of man, with countless summits to fall from.
My mouth trembled, and his hooded eyes landed there. Despite our fucking—in the tree, on the swing, up in the watchtower—we had only kissed twice.
Once in The Pumpkin Wood. Then after Aire’s fingers made me come.
Our lips halted a forbidden breath away. My breasts dragged over his pecs, and the fabric of our clothes rustled. A haggard sigh tore from Aire’s throat, the sound traveling down to my bones.
We had started with a kiss. That was how I would end it.
As I twined my fingers into the ends of his hair and rolled my hips into him, Aire made another drastic noise, while something similar peeled from my tongue.
Seasons, the length of his cock brushed my clit. Mechanisms low in my belly lurched to life in seconds.
Keeping one hand on my hip, Aire caressed his knuckles over my profile. He stared in wonder until I nipped hisdigit, causing his pupils to swallow those irises whole, and goddammit, my head and heart were about to combust.
My chin angled, my lips diving to the underside of his chin. His head fell back, facing the stars as I planted open-mouthed kisses along his skin, tasting the slope of his jaw, the column of his throat, the ravine between his collarbone. I feasted on his throat, licking along the edge, plying him with shivers.
At the side of his neck, I drew in his flesh, sucking on the pulse point. On a groan, Aire’s hands soared to my scalp and craned my head, forcing us to make eye contact. I understood. This devastating sequence of events was happening out of order.
But neither of us stopped, because this precious moment wasn’t going to last. He had asked, and I would answer, and it wouldn’t be the reply either of us hoped for.
“You will hate me after this,” I warned.
“I could never hate you,” Aire vowed. “Even now, I accept that risk. If you’re about to break from me, I’ll take this last moment.”
Leaning forward, he placed a tender peck on the tip of my nose. And my heart dissolved.
Cradling my face, he tugged me into him and whispered, “I want to kiss you.”
Tell him no. Tell him no!
Refuse him. Reject him.
Seasons strike me, the pleading on his face. The downfall of my unforgivable soul.
“Then kiss me,” I coaxed.
Aire’s chest jolted as if someone had drilled a notch there. His desolate face trenched, and a fragmented noise carved from his lungs.
Yet he moved carefully, treating this moment like something fleeting. And then I knew. If he could sense mythoughts purely out of closeness, this man anticipated a tragic conclusion. He knew I had something destructive to share.
Even so, Aire swooped down. And our mouths grazed. Again, and again, and again. His lips skimmed mine, feathering over my skin, which pebbled down to my calves.
I kept my eyes trained on him, while his own eyelids fell shut. Humming, Aire slanted his jaw. Our lips parted and folded, then once more, twice more. Each gingerly pass grew longer, fueled hotter.
We paused, inching apart. Then we launched ourselves into it.
Our mouths flew at each other. Growling, Aire snared one ass cheek and anchored the back of my scalp with the other, his hands tangling in my roots. His lips crushed against my own, tilting and rocking.
Not fast. Not slow.
This knight’s kiss deepened at a sinuous pace. Soft but urgent. Hungry but steady. Delirious, we shoved our lips together, the heat of his tongue probing me open, licking into me with even strokes.
