Chapter Fifteen
Absolute, true, and mathematical time, of itself, and from its own nature flows equably without regard to anything external.
—Isaac Newton
Tarik St. Clair’s lips on mine felt like a fever dream. Like two planets colliding in the eternity of space. Like defying gravity.
It started soft, the barest featherlike brush of his mouth against mine as he pressed a kiss to each corner and then to the middle, the plush contours of his lips fitting snugly against mine. I let out a dreamy sigh as he slanted his head, and suddenly, the tip of his soft, damp tongue flicked over my bottom lip. I jolted, but my fingers dug into his collar, holding his mouth to mine as I mimicked the motion, tentatively tasting him, too.
Tarik groaned, his mouth opening wider, welcoming my entry. My tongue swept shyly against his in a sleek, decadent graze. He tasted sweet, with hints of the cherry brandy he’d sipped in the card room. He wrapped his arms around me and deepened the kiss, exploring me with a tenderness that made me breathless. I couldn’t even function, my entire being swept up in the staggering sensation of being consumed by him.
This kiss completely eclipsed the unremarkable one I’d had with Blake. Not that I should be thinking about another boy while kissing Tarik, but I couldn’t help comparing the two, since I’d only ever done this once before. Blake’s kiss had been barely tolerable, while Tarik’s was like a comet streaking across the night sky, incinerating everything in its path. Including me.
And all I wanted to do was burn.
His hands gripped my waist, winding into the fabric of my gown as if to anchor us from floating away. Everything inside me felt like it was on fire as I kissed him back, my lips clinging to his while our mouths entangled in a dance that felt as natural as breathing. Kissing Tarik felt like everything I’d always imagined it to be…magical,and I never wanted it to end. I wanted to bask in him in forever. I didn’t know how long we stood there, locked and lost in each other, but when we finally broke apart, we were both dazed.
Tarik leaned his forehead against mine. “God…that was…”
“Perfect,” I whispered, my lips feeling tender from our fervent efforts. I wondered if his felt the same, and I wished we had more light so I could commit the sight of them to memory.
“We should go,” he murmured, with a soft kiss to each of my cheeks as if he couldn’t stop touching me. “Before those men come back.”
That was a splash of cold water to the face. Reluctantly, I disentangled my arms from around his neck, immediately missing the warmth and strength of his solid frame. But when he grabbed my hand and threaded his fingers through mine, the flutters inthe pit of my stomach returned. With his guidance, we retraced our steps quickly and exited at a larger street.
Luckily, we were able to secure a hackney without being seen or chased. Tarik gave the driver my address. I would have to sneak in through the kitchens and hope I didn’t get caught.
Worth it.
My cheeks were hot as I gazed at the boy opposite me, knowing that my lips had just been on his, my fingers in his hair, his hands on my waist. Especially when said boy was staring at me like I was everything he’d ever dreamed of and more.
My chest ached.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I whispered.
“I can’t help it,” he said. “I like looking at you.” A wide smile made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Because you’re an enigma. A puzzle, and I happen to be very fond of puzzles.”
“How so?”
“You’re delicate,” he began, and I scoffed at that, rolling my gaze skyward before he held a finger up, “but somehow hiding a will of pure steel.”
“Hardly,” I said, blushing.
“How many young ladies would stand up to a group of ruffians in Covent Garden with absolutely no fear? You’re dauntless, and you never do what I expect. You’re intimidatingly intelligent and can track a deck of cards like the cleverest card sharp.” He blinked and reached into his pocket. “Speaking of, here are your spoils of battle.”
“You keep it,” I said, staring at the stuffed purse he held. He wasn’t poor, but his earnings as a tutor wouldn’t be excessive.
“But it belongs to both of us,” he said. “If you don’t want it, then I don’t either.”
I thought for a moment, a brilliant idea occurring to me. “Then let’s do something amazing with it. Let’s donate it to an orphanage to be used to buy books for children, including books on mathematics, science, and philosophy for the older ones and adventurous stories for the younger ones. I think Zia has a connection to the Little Hands orphanage, part of Bellevue Chapel.”
He handed the purse to me. “Perfect.”
“Are you sure you don’t need it?” I asked.
Tarik shook his head. “It feels right for it to go toward the shaping of young minds. They’re the future.”
He was staring at me again, but now conflicted emotions roamed his face. The whimsical wonder I’d seen before was eclipsed by other things. Likely the same desolate thoughts that were creeping up on the heels of all the good feelings in my own head the closer we got to Mayfair.
