Damnation! Caramel and salt. I knew it.
Helena moved closer on the couch, her hand tightening in Cynthia’s hair.
Kissing Helena was a revelation. Her soft lips were warm and gloriously full. When Helena opened to Cynthia’s questing tongue, triumph and trepidation waged a war in Cynthia. She had been given the keys to heaven, but she wasn’t sure what to do once the door opened.
Helena must have sensed her dilemma. She pulled back. ‘Is this too much?’
Cynthia shook her head. ‘No, I just don’t… That is, I’m not sure…’ She huffed out a frustrated breath.
Silver bled into Helena’s grey eyes as understanding dawned. She pulled Cynthia’s head closer, nibbling Cynthia’s bottom lip before delving into her wet depths. Helena licked and laved, teasing and taunting, inviting Cynthia to join her in an intimate dance of tongues, lips, and teeth. It was nothing like her past experiences. This was just like their conversation, an endless back and forth of discovery between two willing partners.
Cynthia’s heart pounded an ancient rhythm. She fought to catch her breath. She was drowning and wanted to swim deeper. Helena was a world of new textures and sensations. She wanted to savour each one and devour them all at once. Her fingers traced the edge of Helena’s bodice where her breasts rose and fell with each ragged breath. Her body was nothing like a man’s. Soft and curved with delightful secrets waiting to be explored.
Cynthia pressed a palm against Helena’s breast, squeezing carefully. They were smaller than Cynthia’s and firm. She could spend hours learning their weight and texture. When Helena moaned into her mouth, the sun burst from the clouds in a dazzling display of light.
Breasts were not a mystery to Cynthia. She had been managing her own since they first arrived, but feeling Helena’s nipple pebble beneath her palm created an insatiable hunger within her. She wanted to lick and nibble. Savour and suck. Pull pleasure from Helena the way Helena was pulling Cynthia from her sanity.
She sucked Helena’s bottom lip, scraping with her teeth as she gained more confidence in her explorations. Rubbing her thumb over Helena’s tightened peak, knowing how it would feel for her, she imagined the spark of pleasure pulsing through Helena. Her own nipples tightened and tingled, desperate to be treated with such wild abandon.
Pulling free, Cynthia fought to catch her breath. ‘Is this what kissing is supposed to feel like?’
Helena’s pupils were dilated, her mouth red and swollen from Cynthia’s teeth. Satisfaction filled her, knowing she had left a mark on Helena. It was primitive and raw and addicting.
‘Yes. For us. Just for us.’
‘Is this what it was like with the other women you kissed?’ It was a perverse question, but Cynthia needed to know.
Whatever was happening between them was shattering her foundations and rebuilding her anew. She didn’t expect Helena to feel the same way. She had been with other women and knew what pleasure felt like when paired with attraction. Still, what they were sharing felt holy. Sacred. More than just a frenzy of wild sensation. Cynthia was giving Helena tiny pieces of her soul. If this kiss was nothing different to Helena than what she had experienced with other women, it would shatter the fragile magic weaving between them. Cynthia didn’t want to stop, but she wouldn’t delve deeper if she swam in these waters alone.
‘No. It’s never been like this for me. I don’t know what this is, Cyn.’
A possessive triumph filled her. She leaned forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Helena’s neck, sucking her heat to the surface. She knew she was leaving love bites. Helena wouldn’t be able to look at her neck without thinking of Cynthia on the morrow. The primal need to mark Helena as hers was shocking in its intensity.
‘Cyn, you’re sweeping me away.’
‘Should I stop?’ God, she didn’t want to stop. Not ever. But she would if Helena asked. It was a promise Helena had made to her, and one she would honour with equal commitment.
‘Never.’
A knock sounded on the parlour door. The spell lacing between them snapped like a rope tethering them to a shooting star. Both women flew apart as Hamlet leapt from the couch to avoid being crushed by Helena.
16
Helena had never been hexed before, but Aunt Rowan had once. When the spell was finally broken, she described it as coming out of some strange hypnosis. Helena felt similarly as she stared at Cynthia from across the couch cushions.
They were both breathing hard and – if Helena resembled Cynthia – hopelessly dishevelled. Cynthia’s mouth was bruised from her kisses, and her elegant coiffure was falling around her shoulders in tousled glory. Helena lifted her hands to her own hair, desperately trying to tuck and pin pieces back in place.
‘Just a moment,’ Cynthia called to the door before standing and walking to a small mirror hanging on the wall. She pulled the remaining pins from her hair, holding them between her lips and distracting Helena from her own efforts to reassemble herself. Cynthia shook out her hair and retwisted it into a simple chignon, securing it with the pins. Turning, she assessed Helena. ‘Here, let me.’ She strode to the back of the settee and with nimble fingers, tucked, twisted, and pinned Helena’s hair back into place.
She chose a new chair opposite Helena and lifted her brow in a silent question.
Helena gave a quick nod. They were as ready as they would ever be.
‘Come in.’ Cynthia winked at Helena before the door opened. A thrill flowed from Helena’s chest, soaking the rest of her body in hot arousal.
Cynthia’s housekeeper, Mrs Higgins, entered with a tray in her hands carrying fresh coffee and tea. She placed it on the low table between both women, then pulled out a piece of parchment from her apron.
‘I have the list of furnishings Lady Argyle requested, my lady. I must say, I wish you didn’t need to leave. The things I’ve heard about that woman don’t bear repeating. I wouldn’t be surprised if she sacked the lot of us out of spite.’
