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“I don’t like the strings on your flowers,” I specified. Then added, to be perfectly clear: “Or on any gifts. Where are the strings on this?”
He sighed, brows forking down. I got the distinct impression that had he been a man of my world, he would have said “yada yada yada.” Instead, he said, “Titania give me patience.”
“The price?” I persisted.
“Not everything has a price, Gwynn.”
“You know, my experiences thus far in your world indicate otherwise.”
“Then give me something in return.”
“Aha. This is the part I was concerned about.”
“Alas.”
Too bad I hadn’t rummaged through the tribute tent yet. I glanced around, looking for something I could give him, something of equivalent value. He watched me in amusement, a lock of shining hair falling over his shoulder. Blue glinted in the black with the morning light.
“A kiss?” he suggested.
Here we go.“Not a good idea—and a deal-breaker, recall?”
“A one-time exemption, no hands, lips only.” His eyes darkened and he tucked his hands ostentatiously behind his back. “Come give me a kiss, Gwynn.”
I studied him uncertainly. “Our agreement stands? This momentary exemption in no way alters any other standing bargains?”
“Agreed.”
“And in return for this one kiss, lips only, no hands, this one time, I get to keep this magical chamber pot, which will be wholly mine and not connected to you in any way.”
“Agreed. Come give me a kiss, Gwynn.”
“I can’t help but think this has to be a bad idea.”
Rogue simply regarded me steadily. His lips, the sweet Val Kilmer curve of them, drew my eye. It didn’t help that I wanted to kiss him. And the irony didn’t escape me that I had turned out to be the sort of woman seduced not by flowers but by convenient hygiene—along with an opportunity to study how he did the spell stabilization. But kisses—weren’t they magically potent? I flipped through stories in my head. Sleeping Beauty’s kiss, Snow White’s kiss. Judas’s kiss. Awakenings, pledges, betrayals.
“One kiss, as a thank-you. It means nothing else?”
“It might mean little to you, Gwynn,” he replied softly, not moving.
“What might it mean to you?” I jumped on the point.
But he only smiled, a slow curve of those enticing lips. “You have your parameters, Gwynn. A kiss, another gift of similar value. Or,” he added with a raised eyebrow, “you can owe me.”
“I don’t see how one lousy kiss has much value anyway,” I muttered.
“There you are then. Something you can easily part with. And it would go a long ways toward being flirtatious. Come give me a kiss, Gwynn.”
Even with his hands behind his back, Rogue looked dangerous. Tempting dark candy. Unable to shake the feeling this was a bad idea, but unable to intellectually pin it down to anything, I finally put my hesitation to fear of my own weaknesses. I stepped up to Rogue, who watched me gravely. His long legs crossed at the ankle made it difficult for me to get close enough—would I have to straddle him? No way.
I stepped in from the side, to reach him from that angle, but with a flash of his predatory grin, Rogue drew up his legs and opened them wide, so that I had no choice but to move between them. As I inched up enough to get close enough to kiss, I realized that, even with him partially sitting on the bench, I couldn’t match his height without leaning on him.
“You’ll have to lean forward,” I said, “for me to reach you with lips only.”
He obligingly angled toward me, his tail of hair sliding back over his shoulder as he moved. I felt awkward, with my hands fluttering in the air, no place to ground, so I finally folded them behind my back, too, and raised on my toes to place my lips on his.
Seductive and sweet, the soft steely heat of him moved through me. Sandalwood and Stargazers swirled in my head, and I kissed him longer than I’d meant to, angling my head to savor him better. He responded with a deep hum and opened to me, drinking me in, as he had before. During our other kiss, when my hands had also been behind my back, but chained there.
The memory brought up the flooding arousal and despair of that moment.
