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ChapterSix
Serenity
This man smells…so good. Like spice and wood and clean laundry.
If I weren’t worried about ruining my makeup, I might bury my face in the collar of his shirt and nuzzle him the way Duchess does to me after a long day of shooting.
Cian looks taller and broader than he was at 18 but also feels like it. Solid and filled out, with the perfect spot—right below his collarbone—for me to rest my head. He’s warm and cozy, even while wearing a starchy suit, like he was built to do this. And I’m here for it, one hundred percent.
I pull back a little, even though I don’t want to let go of the hug just yet. I just want to get a closer look. I want to take in all of him. His angled jaw, the neck stubble, the corded throat.
His face has aged in the best way, with the beginning of fine lines around the eyes. I remember him as handsome but slightly goofy and gangly. Not anymore.
Cian earns points for not letting go of the hug yet. His arms remain locked around me, and his large hands slowly rub up and down my spine. I’ve never been so thankful for a backless dress. The skin-to-skin contact is the first I’ve had in a long time. So long, I have to control the urge to weep like an idiot. Cian triggers both nostalgia and excitement.
Also triggered is one particular part of him that juts against my lower half. Something rigid and large. Ahem.
I can’t help the blush that heats my face.
Erections happen. So what. I’m sure it’ll calm down once we go into the party, and we can catch up on old times. If either of us decides to end this hug and go to the party.
But who wants to let go of a soul-stirring bear hug?
Maybe we can just hug like this and let the party go on without us.
Cian slides his hand upward with deliberation, sending sparks up and down my spine. His strong hand finally cups the back of my neck, and I sense his face angling downward.
Oh, god. He’s going to kiss me now, and suddenly I’ve forgotten how to. Do I hold my breath? How do I keep from bumping noses? Do I lick my lips?
All of that worry is forgotten when Cian’s lips capture mine.
In the blink of an eye, I’m no longer thinking about how to do this. I’m not thinking about how to perform.
It’s just…easy.
All the worry and the wonder and the anticipation floats away like dandelion fluff. What’s left is one perfect kiss.
Cian has taken control of the situation and gotten the whole kiss redo over with at the start, and I’m so grateful he has. As experienced as I am at kissing leading men on screen, I don’t have any real feelings invested in those scenes. With Cian, I have all the feelings.
The kiss goes on, and I smile against his lips, grateful that I wore my long-wearing lip stain.
I don’t notice how my heart races until he pulls away, his arms still caging me against him. “I’m going to assume that smile is about something good.”
I simply nod, at a loss for words.
His soft chuckle makes my fingers curl inside the lapel of his jacket. He closes the distance between us and kisses me again, this time more intensely. The tip of his tongue licks the seam of my lips, and I open my mouth.
I’ve never accepted anyone’s tongue in my mouth within seconds of the start of a date. But technically, this isn’t a date. Dating, in my experience, sucks. This doesn’t suck; ergo, it’s not a date.
This is just us. Judging by his faint groan of pleasure, he clearly doesn’t think this sucks either.
One thing is clear to both of us: This is not enough. Nothing we can safely and legally do in a hotel lobby is enough. I won’t be sticking my tongue down his throat in public, as delicious as that sounds.
As if to remind me of that fact, my ears pick up on whispers nearby.
“Oh my gosh, is that …”
“Where? Oh! It sure looks like her.”
