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‘They always do.’
‘No, I mean...he never... I never...’
He frowned at her confusion, not quite sure what she was unable to put words to.
She turned to him then for the first time and he was struck full force by her beauty. ‘Wha
t is it like to be kissed?’
He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. ‘You thought you loved him, but have never been kissed?’ he asked, unable to hide the incredulity from his tone.
Perhaps I don’t know what love is.
She hadn’t said the words out loud in that rich accented tone of hers, but her face was so expressive he could almost read her thoughts. He was used to the practised masks of women hell-bent on seduction. But hers? So open, so revealing, it distracted him for a moment.
Her skin glowed as much as her white lace dress in the beams of the moon. Flawless. Her jaw was strong, angular almost, stubborn even, but drew the eye to perfect rosebud lips slicked with just a trace of something that glistened in the night. Dark brows above dark eyes, highlighted with just a trace of mascara and liner as to outline, rather than dominate the deep rich dark eyes that stared back at him with confusion and hope—and a request he was almost one hundred per cent sure she wasn’t aware of.
* * *
What is it like to be kissed?
Maria was embarrassed. Should never have asked such a question. Especially not to a man like him. She might not have known who he was—which was partly why she’d felt able to speak her mind—but she didn’t have to know his name to know that he most definitely knew what it was like to kiss, to touch...to... She yanked her mind back before she could give away her thoughts.
A blush rose almost painfully to her cheeks and she hoped that he might not see it beneath the cover of the night sky. She felt naïve and uncouth next to him. And small. Because...his body, his presence, it was huge. She’d seen the impressive width of his arms as he’d sat down and leaned his weight back on his hands behind him. Arms and muscles that looked too wide for her to encompass with both her hands. If it hadn’t been for the champagne bottle, she would have pressed her thighs together against the feeling that was growing within her. She might have been innocent, but she knew the shocking arousal sparking within her was something she rarely felt, even with Theo.
She turned away, but even then, every single feature on his face glowed within her mind. Harsh cheekbones defined by the short beard that covered the strong line of his jaw, framing lips that were almost cruelly sensual. His eyebrows hung low above eyes that were a honey-green shade of hazel, so bright almost that she could have lost herself within their depths.
She thought he wouldn’t answer and almost jolted when he did speak.
‘There are lots of different types of kisses. Manipulative kisses, to get what you want. Cruel kisses to punish.’ Later she would wonder that he chose those two descriptions first. ‘Soft, gentle kisses a mother gives her child,’ he said, his tone unfathomable and causing a sudden yearning in the pit of her heart. ‘Passionate, mindless kisses that are all-consuming, thoughtless and more than a little selfish.’
She turned back to him, startled to find him looking so intently at her. As if trying to figure something out. As if...no. Surely it was only her wondering what it would be like to kiss this man.
‘But your first kiss? Honestly? Probably messy and awkward.’
Maria felt a little sad at that. As if somehow he’d taken away the promise of something that would be...good?
‘Perhaps I should just get it out of the way, then.’
He huffed out a gentle laugh—not at her, she realised. With her. There was a difference.
‘Perhaps,’ he said ruefully.
‘Would you do me a kindness, then? Would you kiss me?’
He met her gaze then, this man whose name she did not even know. And she felt it. That low hum through her body, as if his penetrating stare could reach into the depths of her soul and figure her out, understand her. That was what she’d wanted, she realised. All this time, all these years. Someone to understand. And, having done so, choose to stay.
His eyes roamed her face, looking for what, she didn’t know. The hairs on her arms lifted and goosebumps raised across her skin. She resisted the urge to shiver beneath his gaze, because she was scared. Not of him, but of what was happening to her. She’d never wanted something as much as she did his kiss. He frowned for a moment, as if fighting some inner battle she couldn’t imagine. He reached out his hand and raised her chin with his finger, looking at her, inspecting her almost.
‘Are you sure?’
She nodded, unable to speak. Wondering if he would walk away instead, or give into this strange web woven around them, separating them from the rest of the world.
He moved slowly, as if giving her the chance to turn away, to change her mind. She watched, wide-eyed and fascinated as he bent his head towards her, and...instead of pressing his lips to hers, he passed them, pressing his cheek to hers, stroking it almost, the heat warming her skin and heart, and she heard him breathe in, as if taking her into him, only to finally turn his head back towards her and almost brush a kiss across her lips. Once, then twice.
Her heart soared at the gentle yet firm feel of his lips against hers. Something within her rose to the surface of her skin, clamouring to reach out to him, to feel more than the simple contact of his finger beneath her chin and his lips against hers.
Desperate and fearful that he might pull away, that he might take this away from her, she reached up, inexpertly, to either side of his face, the soft hair of his beard against her palm, her fingers brushing the silky thick strands of his hair. Holding him gently, pulling him back towards her in case he turned away.
