Page 69 of Lana Pecherczyk
“Not sure if I believe you.” He turned away, slumping his leather-clad shoulders.
“River!” She dropped the dagger and shoved him. “I’m taking the piss.”
“Okay, now you’re associating me with urine.”
“It means I’m having a laugh. Stop it!” Her cheeks ached from grinning. “You know how attractive you are.”
He faced her, eyes intimate, voice soft. “Yeah, I know. But do you know?”
“You don’t believe me?” She deepened her voice, mocking his. “Listen to what I’m telling you.”
“I am.” He stepped close enough for his heat to envelop her. His sweaty, woodsy, and very masculine scent scattered her thoughts. “Emotions aren’t as easy to read as you think,” he murmured. “They can be misinterpreted.”
Was that why he hid his from her? She supposed that made sense.
“Like texting,” she offered.
“You’re cute when you speak old world.” His brow furrowed as his gaze dropped to her lips. “It’s almost as hot as the filthy words. What’s texting? Sounds naughty.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “It’s a way of writing. Like sending a letter through a phone, maybe?”
“Mm.” His gaze stayed fixed on her mouth. “Like my triad tattoo.”
“What’s that?”
“I think I know how you can convince me,” he said, ignoring her question.
“Convince you of what?”
“That you don’t think my face looks like an ass.” His amusement slipped through their bond.
“Okay. I’ll bite. How?”
“We’ll save the biting for next time, Sparkles. For now—” He tilted his jaw and tapped his wounded upper lip. “Boo-boo won’t get better without a kiss.”
Her heart stuttered.
“I mean,” she said, voice breathy as she inched closer, “it looks half-healed already.”
“It’s very sore. I promise.”
They were so close now that barely a whisper separated their lips. Tension crackled between them, skipping along her skin. She’d only ever kissed one man in her life. Only touched one set of lips with hers.
River held perfectly still, patient enough that she knew if she backed away, he wouldn’t press. He’d probably crack a joke to ease her discomfort.
She pressed her lips to his.
Contact.
At first, wrongness jarred through her. Just pressure against foreign flesh, like speaking a foreign language. Not the lips she knew. And it irritated her. She didn’t want this feeling holding her back from starting a new life. She tentatively pushed her tongue past River’s lips, into his mouth.
When their tongues touched, he made a sound—part groan, part purr, pure lust. It obliterated every wrong feeling in her body.
And then he kissed her back.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
