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Perhaps because he knew once he put his mouth to those soft, welcoming lips, he’d be lost.
Perhaps because he’d be vulnerable.
He’d have to offer up his secrets eventually and he wasn’t sure he could live with seeing the fear in Ivy’s eyes as she regarded him just like everyone else did.
Like a stranger.
Like a villain.
Like a murderer.
But the light was too soft on her face and the crease on her cheek made his heart soften. She smelled too much of warmth and flowers of some kind. It didn’t help matters that when he slipped a hand up the curve of her face, she sighed and leaned into his touch.
He couldn’t even remember the last time someone wanted his touch.
Cillian dropped his head marginally. He waited for the moment—the second her eyes went wide when she finally realized with whom she was about to share a kiss.
It never came, even as he shifted a half step closer. One more second passed and it was a second too long. The hunger inside him propelled him forward and he put his mouth to hers.
A tiny gasp escaped her before he closed his eyes and melded his lips fully across hers. He moved slowly, gently, her slow response reminding him of her innocence. Yet she remained his equal, moving with his exploratory touches, tilting her head to give him better access as he slipped his hand around the back of her neck and took her waist in his other hand.
He nearly groaned.
Somehow he held it back. How Ivy would respond to such a noise—such a base, desperate sound—he didn’t know, and there was no chance in hell he wanted to ruin this moment.
She was perfection.
Every inch of her was soft and warm, from her lips to her waist to the touch of her thighs to his. He wanted to sink his fingers into her hips and draw her as close as humanly possible. Fire ran along his veins at the realization of just how perfect this woman was. If he was a less jaded man, he might think her made for him. She contrasted his hardness perfectly and he imagined if he brought her closer, it would be as though not a slither of air could fit between them.
His mind nearly stretched to thoughts of bare flesh and more gasps drawn from her, but by some miracle Cillian controlled it. There would be many who thought him incapable of such a thing but being on the battlefield had long ago taught him to forget his own wants and needs.
Slowly, he drew back but allowed himself one last, gentle touch to her lips. He kept his hand upon her face and added another so he could meet her gaze and assure himself she’d been as lost in that kiss as he.
A small smile skimmed across her lips.
He nearly gave a sigh of relief. She didn’t hate him. Wasn’t disgusted by him. Hell, perhaps she even enjoyed it as much as he did. By some miracle, his pretty young wife actually enjoyed being kissed by him. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve such a thing, but he was going to hold onto this with a death grip.
He smoothed his thumb absently across her cheek. Fool that he was, he even smiled too. Cillian tried not to imagine how ridiculous he looked, just touching her face and grinning like an idiot.
“You should get some sleep,” he said, his voice sounding far too much like he’d gargled sand for his liking. What an effect this woman had on him.
Slowly, reluctantly, he dropped his hands from her, already wondering when he’d get to touch her again. Tomorrow? In the morning? In two hours?
Right now?
“I’m not certain I could fall asleep now.” She looked down at the tiny creature slumbering in the box.
Because they’d kissed? Or because she would worry for the hedgehog? He knew which it was for him. After that, he didn’t expect to enjoy a minute’s sleep tonight. He readjusted his eyepatch, finding the ribbon had somehow twisted during their kiss.
She looked at it.
Shit.
For one moment, he’d forgotten the injury. He thought she had too. But how could she? He was only half-blind. He knew what a mess the damned thing was.
Ivy cocked her head. “What exactly happened to your eye, Cillian?”
“Battle,” he said stiffly.
