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"Us?"
"Get rid of the question mark, Lark. We both know that there is an us."
He was right. She was past hesitating. A glimmer of certainty rose through the flame that encased them. Lark gave him a single nod. Like the caged tiger she'd always expected him to be, he pounced.
His mouth covered hers. Not soft. Not sweet. His kiss had a bite to it.
She felt consumed by the touch of his mouth on hers. The pads of his fingers were soft, but they still clawed into her chin, into her shoulders, into her low back.
Lark forgot to care if anyone saw. She was caught. She was claimed. She had no plans to escape anytime soon.
Chapter Eleven
For the first time in a long time, Omar bounced out of bed in the morning. His alarm clock startled him twenty minutes later after he'd already finished dressing. He was out of the door just as the sun was stretching its rays into the new day.
That single kiss from Lark had breathed new life into him like she’d cast magic into his veins with the press of her lips.
Oh, that first kiss.
Omar was a man used to fine wine and fine dining. Lark Voorheen’s lush lips were a singular delicacy. It had taken everything in him not to gorge himself on the nectar that was her top lip.
He’d felt sated simply with her presence, talking to her on the car ride, learning more about her family and past on the plane ride, sharing in her delight at the ballet.
But when the curtain went down, he could no longer believe the lie. It wasn’t enough. He needed more than a seat at the table beside her.
He itched to do more than having her back while she went after her dreams. Omar wanted to be a part of her dreams, as she had been a part of his since the first night he’d met her.
That first kiss had been a dream come true.
The second kiss, in the car ride to the airfield, surpassed his waking fantasies.
He’d taken another kiss when he'd left her at the front door of Mondego House.
When he lingered, pressing kisses to her temple, the lights had flickered off and on. Omar caught Zhi scowling at him from the window. Spin stood in front of the duke, holding two thumbs up at her best friend.
Lark had slipped inside, leaving Omar only with the vivid memories of embracing her which had turned his once-fevered dreams into mirages last night.
Seeing her standing backstage that morning, she looked like a fairy standing in the sunlight. The woman positively shimmered. Omar was afraid to approach her in fear she’d disappear.
But as he came closer, she didn’t vanish. She lifted her gaze, and their eyes locked. His eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, she was glowing. It wasn’t the shimmering lotion he knew stage performers wore. It was all her.
The corners of her mouth tilted up, and somehow he was standing before her. Their lips parted at the same moment, but no words came. A tingling touched the tip of every one of Omar’s fingertips, as though he had ten wands ready to capture the magic of her. She was nearly in his arms, but she strong-armed him.
Instead of the vibrant woman before him, his hands closed around empty air. The sensation was like a tiny explosion going off in his palms. He felt burned by the rejection.
Omar couldn’t fathom what he’d done wrong since last they'd met?
“We have a crowded house,” she said.
He peered out of the curtain. There were at least a dozen reporters gathered in the front rows. He cursed under his breath.
He’d forgotten about the press junket. Now that Lark’s show was ready, it was time for him to hold up his end of the bargain and get the word out. This Q&A, followed by a brief demonstration, was the first of his planned promotional campaign. There would also be television and radio ads, a social media blitz, and he was in talks to do some merchandising with wands, t-shirts, and some simple magic kits.
Lark was already a star in his eyes. He was about to make her a brand. First, he had to deal with these nosy reporters. They’d be looking for any signs of a relationship between him and his new protégé. Omar had no intention of letting them in on this relationship. This one he wanted to keep all to himself.
It would be no hardship pretending he was disinterested now. He was in a foul mood. The woman he wanted was right in front of him and out of his reach.
"Let's get this
