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“Though we haven’t really touched on that as yet. Are we that serious?” he asked, watching as the pink moved north to land in her cheeks. His palms warmed, as if he could feel the heavy beat of her blood from there. “Or just messing about?”
“A little serious,” she said, but only after licking her lips. “Or what would be the point?”
Once his eyes had landed on her mouth there they stayed. And this time, as the memory of how she’d tasted, how she’d opened up to him and kissed him with such easy release came back to him, it did so with a great hot thud. “There’s something to be said for messing about.”
“Nate,” she said. Her lips opened as she said his name.
“Yes, Saskia?”
“Maybe we should talk about the kiss.”
With that, his eyes slid back to hers. When it came to his “feelings,” talk was a four letter word. But if she wanted to describe, in any kind of detail, the kiss, then who was he to stop her? “Talk away.”
She carefully put her feet back on the floor, as if needing to ground herself. “What I’d like to talk about is limits.”
“Limits.”
“Requirements and...restrictions.”
God, she looked so earnest he couldn’t help but grin. “My hand may brush your hip but must move no higher than your waist? Kissing allowed, but no under-clothes action?”
Her resultant stare was understandably flat.
“We’re both grown-ups, Saskia. You know what I want. I know what you want. I think so long as we both get what we want the boundaries can be fluid.”
She breathed in long and deep, and he felt himself breathing right along with her.
“So, kissing...” she said, her voice husky as all get out.
“Needn’t be off the table. Unless you want it to be.”
Did she? He’d live if she put a kibosh on it, but he found himself going very still as he awaited her answer.
A few long moments later she sat up straighter, shook her hair from her face and with a small shrug said, “Never say never.”
That’s my girl.
“So whatever happens...”
“...happens.”
“Till the wedding.”
“Right.” Nate jerked a little at the fact that she’d been the one to say it. Then he shifted closer. “No point knowing about one another’s childhood pets if basic chemistry isn’t believable.”
She sat stock-still, as if they’d been forced together by a fateful turn of Spin the Bottle. She frowned at his smile, which only made him smile all the more.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, her voice husky, giving her away.
“You.”
“If the thought of kissing me is that funny, maybe we ought to cut our losses right now.”
“Sweetheart, the thought of kissing you is out there now, like a flashing red light right in the middle of my forehead. I can’t stop thinking about it. As far as I know there’s only one way to fix that.”
“Right...” she said.
He moved closer again, till his thigh touched hers. Her bare feet curled into the couch. Her scent shifted in the air around him—soft, natural, making his nostrils flare and his blood pump so hard through his body he could hear it behind his ears.
He slid a hand into her hair, the softness spilling over his fingers. He turned her head till she was looking at him head-on, to find her lashes at half-mast, her eyes darkened with anticipation. Not a flicker of light was to be found in their bottomless brown depths.
He leaned towards her and smiled as she did the same, till her breath washed across his mouth, hot and ready.
Her chest lifted and fell quickly, as if her breath was getting away from her.
And then he pressed his lips to hers.
Such sweetness, sweeter than he’d even anticipated, as he fed her slow, aching, gentle kisses. And then there was her taste. He’d somehow forgotten that part; the lush, wholesome taste of her that was familiar and unique all at once. Her small hands lifted to grip his shirt. Soft sighs escaped her hot lips.
As her tongue slid across the seam of his mouth his brain turned to wild red mist. He returned in kind, their tongues dancing, chasing, creating the most delicious friction, and wave upon wave of heat rained through him.
Her arms wound around him and her body lifted to his, as if she couldn’t get close enough. He felt trembling, though it couldn’t possibly have been him.
When he wound his hand deeper through her hair, tugging it back, she opened to him as if she’d been unlocked, and all that sweetness was swept aside beneath the flood of heat that erupted between them. Her sweet, hot mouth was like a drug, pulling him under. When one bare foot ran down his leg it was all he could do not to come then and there.
