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Bianca sighed. Her twenty-first birthday was in a week. For the child of a courtesan, never-been-kissed Bianca was not living up to the family reputation. She knew better than to yearn for a different life, but was one magical moment too much to ask?
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked with concern.
“I have been waiting all evening to wish upon a shooting star, and fear my wait has been in vain.”
“Never trust an almanac,” he agreed. “Tomorrow is probably supposed to rain frogs.”
“I should like to miss that,” she said wryly.
“I am sorry you must miss the shooting star as well. What were you going to wish for?”
“Since I shan’t have the opportunity to do it properly, I suppose I might as well tell you.” She tilted her head. “I wanted you to kiss me.”
“Did you?” he said with interest.
“But I’ve changed my mind.”
His eager expression fell. “And why is that?”
“Because I’ve decided to grant my own wishes instead of waiting on the heavens. Or on the vexingly slow wits of supposedly insatiable rakes.”
His lips twitched. “By which, you mean… ?”
“I’m going to kissyou.”
He widened his twinkling eyes. “How very rakish!”
She nodded gravely.
He touched his free hand to his cravat as if shocked. “I’m quite scandalized.”
“Be scandalized and silent,” she scolded him. “Your mouth is easier to kiss when it’s not talking.”
He closed his lips, then opened them again. “Are we about to engage in a closed-mouth kiss, or an open-mouthed kiss?”
She frowned and tilted her head. “What’s an open-mouthed kiss?”
“Ah.” He smiled. “Permission to kiss you back, however I like, after you finish kissing me in your manner?”
“Granted,” she replied primly.
“All right, then.” He lowered his head toward hers. “I’m ready.”
“Good,” she whispered, then pressed her lips to his.
His lips were firm, yet gentle. Warm, and welcoming. It was quite literally a wish come true. And yet… she could not help but suspect that something important was missing. That he was toying with her. That the Huntsman was biding his time until he could unleash his true passion on his prey.
“Very well,” she murmured against his lips. “Show me your way.”
His gaze sharpened. “As you wish.”
He cupped his hands about her upturned face and slanted his parted lips over hers, nudging and coaxing until her mouth opened to his. He swept his tongue inside to battle with hers, tasting, claiming, teasing.
She could feel each stroke of his tongue as if it passed over every hidden curve and valley of her body. The chills tickling along her skin had nothing to do with the brisk spring weather and everything to do with the heat emanating from the handsome rake before her.
This was not a kiss, but a lesson. A claiming. His very essence branded upon her soul, as hers did the same to his. Two wild things, untamed and free.
“Bianca.” His voice was a soft growl, a mingling of breath. “Open your eyes.”
