As he pulled back, her gaze was down on the floor as if they’d been caught in something very unfortunate. How could that have been an accident? Had she accidentally turned her head as he’d leaned in to kiss her? The look in her eyes as she brought her gaze up suggested otherwise. Her breath was caught and her eyes glistened. This was much too intimate. Her hand was gently on his forearm and they stood too close. He felt her breath on his neck. What was this?
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but to tease you.”
Anger rose in him. “It is not something to joke about, Miss Brightly.”
“It was just a tiny, almost kiss.”
In truth, he wasn’t sure whether he was angry or not. He was both. Something in him was utterly elated. Another part appreciated the teasing, even as another felt this was a serious infraction. When had he become so utterly stuffy? What was so terrible about a pretty girl teasing him? How was this the end of the world?
Without meaning to, he leaned down and claimed her lips in a slow kiss. He just couldn’t help himself. Energy rushed through his body, twisting his stomach completely. It felt like a drop off a cliff, but through utter sweetness.
If she was now shocked, he didn’t know. All his senses were caught in the kiss, the feel of her lips, the taste of her. As opposed to her teasing peck, this was a kiss, a real one. An alarm was sounding in his head somewhere, but it was drowned out with sensations that had taken flight for the first time in a long while.
The kiss deepened. Every part of him responded to her, wanted this kiss. Her mouth was warm and soft and welcoming. Her body. Softness fused to him, and urgency built sharply inside him. All he wanted was more of that softness.
This would evolve into something much more if he allowed it to. The realization drew him out of the encompassing sweetness, because he was embarrassed by how completely he’d succumbed to a kiss—as if he’d waited on bated breath for this. His cheeks were burning, his body was on fire.
With the kiss over, she withdrew from him. If her cheeks had been rosy before, they glowed now. Her lips were red in the way only a kiss could do, and she bit her lower lip as if she savored the taste. “Oops,” she said.
Oops? Was this an oops? As in, I dropped my napkin kind of oops? This kiss had shaken him to the very core of his being, and all she said was oops? Had she just ripped him apart with her oops?
Pulling himself together, he straightened. “Miss Brightly,” he said with a nod. Politeness was the means to extricate himself out of every situation.
A whisp of her hair floated on the air as she turned around and walked out of the room. The scent of her lingered, and there was a forceful part of him that demanded he go after her. He could. They could kiss again. Maybe even do more, if that was what her teasing indicated. Perhaps he would wake up in the morning with her warm body next to him.
“Fuck,” he said and looked around, assuring Mr. Fuller hadn’t witnessed that little interaction. Not that the man would be indiscreet about it. He just didn’t want a witness of how completely he’d been undone by a kiss. And it had been one he’d initiated too. He’d kissed her. Fine, she’d started it, but the kiss, the real kiss, had been him.
With a groan, he sat down and finished his whiskey. His body was still on fire. Every part of it was pumping out heat. How was he going to sleep with this in his veins? More importantly, that kiss might make things awkward, even impossible, to continue with her staying here. How could this not have repercussions? Else, they could simply pretend it had never happened. That seemed the best course of action. Persuading her might not be so easy. It wasn’t as if she really had wanted to seduce him, was it? She’d been prodding him for a reaction. Well, she got one.
Chapter 22
THE MOON HAD MADE her do it, she claimed to herself when she woke just at dawn. She’d dreamt of him. Kisses and sweetness. She’d wanted more. Even last night, she’d wanted more. Damn wine for making her do silly things. No, it wasn’t the wine. Something in her had decided even before the wine that she wanted to ruffle his feathers.
A mere peck and his aloofness had crumbled in an instant. That only went to show how much he was denying himself the things he needed—flatly refusing to admit that he needed more than the sparse life he allowed himself.
But this was also exciting. Julius had cracked. She’d seen the real him for a moment. Felt was probably a better description. There was a little thrill attached to knowing that for an instant, he'd taken what he’d wanted. And then it had been over. He’d regrouped and withdrawn. The shutters had come down again.
Was it terrible that she wanted to tear through that reserve? One could even say it was for his own good. The people who cared about him probably agreed.
Was she seriously contemplating seducing him? It wasn’t a question she dared answer, but with a degree of excitement did she prepare for the day. She had no idea what the day would bring, but there was something thrilling about all this, because it had possibilities.
Again she asked if this was something she wanted. There was no reason not to. Throughout her time here, she’d espoused
