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His brows furrowed, just minutely, as he tilted his head slightly to the left, trying to figure her out.
After a minute, he asked. “What for?”
Morana stroked his cheek with her thumbs. “For caring.”
He didn’t get it. Of course, he didn’t. How could he? He didn’t know her entire history. He didn’t know what he had become to her. He didn’t know she’d seen him do what he had done to her father when she had been missing. He didn’t get it because he didn’t know how it had tilted her world on its axis again, how it had split her chest open, how it had warmed her to the bone in a way she knew she would never be cold or alone again.
And she wouldn’t be able to convey it to him, to tell him any of it. So, she did it in the only way she could in that moment.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
He stilled.
Completely stilled.
His hands tightened slightly on the side of her hips but he sat frozen under her. Morana didn’t care. She held him with all the affection she felt for him in her heart, and tilted her head, pouring it into that one kiss. She nipped at his lips, sipped from them, kissed them gently, reverently, giving him tenderness she knew he had never received in two decades.
He let her. He let her shower him and received it. Accepted it. Didn't kiss her back but didn't push her away.
Morana tasted his lips the way she had wished to for such a long time. Tilting her head to the other side, she fit their lips together again, locking them for a moment before sucking at his lower lip, feeling the scruff on his chin rubbing against her skin, the bristles around his mouth burning hers.
Someone knocked on the door.
Morana pulled away from the simplest, most beautiful of kisses and stared deep into his eyes.
“You,” she whispered to the space between them, “Tristan Caine, are a beautiful, beautiful man. And my heart beats for you.”
The confusion and surprise on his face were priceless. This was not The Predator. This was the boy who had been called a monster for doing the brave thing and left behind alone never to be told he was precious. This was the boy who had buried himself deep inside the stronger man, who could not understand or process her actions or the thoughts behind them. She had reached under the persona and found the man, the boy.
Without another word, Morana stood up. It was proof of his shock that he let her.
She opened the door and Dante looked at her, eyebrows raised. Morana shook her head. He smirked.
“We should get to the house. It’s time for dinner,” Dante announced, indicating the main door. “We can talk on our way there.”
Morana nodded. “Is it okay if I leave my laptop here? I’ve left some programs running and I won’t feel comfortable with them in that house.”
“Of course.”
“Can we have a moment?” whiskey-and-sin asked from behind her, addressing Dante.
“Another moment?” Dante grinned, before shaking his head and walking out the main door wordlessly.
Morana turned to ask what he wanted to talk about when suddenly, she was slammed into the wall beside the door. She looked up, baffled, barely catching her breath, only catching a fleeting glimpse of the wild look on his face before his mouth crashed down over hers.
Her toes curled into her shoes, her fingers going around his tight waist, feeling the gun tucked to the side of his trousers under her palm. Body catching fire, heart thundering in her chest, Morana caved to him like sand under an ocean wave. His hands fisted in her hair, tilting her head back as he devoured her mouth. This kiss was nothing like the one minutes ago. It was harsh, almost bruising in its intensity, but the undercurrent of something untarnished ran through them. She still felt his confusion in the kiss, but there was something else there too. Something precious. Something she couldn't understand and he was trying to tell her. She parted her lips gladly as his tongue swept through them, dipping inside her mouth before pulling out. His entire body pressed hers into the wall - feet to feet, hips to hips, chest to breasts - as he leaned down and she went up on her toes as high as possible.
Sensations coursed through her body, her blood heated and burning every single part of her from inside out. His teeth tugged on her lower lip; a moan left her mouth. He swallowed it, stroking her tongue with his, tangling them together for a split second before pulling away again. Her hips canted into his, her hands pulling him closer as he feasted on her mouth, his hands firm but gentle in her hair.
It wasn't just a kiss. It was more, much more.
They broke apart for much-needed air.
“Dinner,” she mumbled through a hazed mind.
“I’d rather eat you,” he murmured back, kissing her feverishly once again. Morana lost herself in the kiss, let herself drown anchored by him. They kissed for seconds, or minutes, or hours, she didn’t know. All she knew by the time he pulled back was her lips were swollen and she wanted more. He did too. She could feel it in his body, see it in his blue eyes.
“That’s how you kiss me next time,” he told her, putting a little space between them.
