Page 81

And the world disappears.

I’ve imagined kisses.

Millions of them.

Dreamed of mouths meeting beneath moonlight, of lovers clinging to one another as though the world might end if they separated.

But imagination is a poor substitute for the real thing.

Calla’s lips are warm.

Soft.

Insistent.

She slides her arms around my neck and draws me closer.

I follow willingly.

Her fingers tangle in my hair.

A low sound escapes my throat.

She smiles against my mouth.

“Like that?”

“Gods, yes.”

“Good.”

She kisses me again.

Slower this time.

Teaching me.

Not with instructions.

With patience.

With laughter.

I deepen our kiss, my control slipping.

“Easy, big guy.”

I pull back.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

Her smile softens.

“You’re just very enthusiastic.”

“I have three thousand years to make up for.”