Page 192 of Alchemised
He tilted his head. “Will you take your hair down? I want to see it.”
She blinked in surprise. “Really?”
He just gave a short nod, watching her.
She reached up awkwardly and pulled the pins out. The two braids tumbled down, and she removed the ties, running her fingers through the strands to unbraid them, feeling the tension in her scalp release as she dropped her hands into her lap, not wanting to see his reaction, heat already scalding her face and neck.
“There. My mane.”
He stared in silence, as if he needed time to take it in. “I didn’t realise it was so long.”
She squeezed the pins, daring to glance up. “The weight makes it more manageable.”
He said nothing else, just staring as if mesmerised.
She flushed. Having her hair loose felt as if she was revealing something deeply intimate about herself, something she was accustomed to keeping carefully put away because it was so often treated as either unacceptable or pitiable. She wasn’t prepared for this kind of reaction.
He leaned forward, lacing his fingers into her hair along her temple, running his fingers through it. His expression curious. She shivered at the sensation, at the nearness of him.
“It’s softer than I expected,” he said. His eyes were fascinated.
She didn’t know what to say.
His hand slid up her neck and tangled with the curls at the base of her skull. His breathing had grown shallow.
He wasn’t looking at her hair anymore; his eyes were on her face, on her lips, that silver gleam lighting them again as he shifted closer.
“If you don’t want me to kiss you, you should say so now,” he said.
He was so near, she could taste his breath, the burn of alcohol on it.
Everything had become blurred and dreamlike, except him.
She could feel the weight of her life bearing down, crushing her day by day, always taking more than she could spare, but she could also feel Kaine, the warmth of him and his fingers laced through her hair.
He was gentler than she thought he could be. He looked at her like he saw her.
And he was asking.
She kissed him.
A real kiss this time.
The instant her lips met his, he took control. As if she’d sprung something loose in him, his arm was around her waist, drawing her towards him, pulling her close until their bodies pressed together, and she was on his lap.
Her hands were on his shoulders, fingertips brushing across the outermost point of the array while he deepened the kiss as if wanting to consume her. When his lips left hers, he arched her neck back, his breath and tongue hot on her bared throat.
He seemed to be mapping her with the span of his fingers, a topographer exploring the curve of her clavicles, every dip and rise of bone and flesh.
He pulled her so close that she could feel the barrier of her clothing between them, her skirts around her hips. His hands gripped her waist, thumbs tracing her ribs.
She ran a hand along his jaw, and when her palm grazed his cheek, he pressed his face into it, eyes fluttering shut, a breath escaping him, as if he were starved of touch.
His hands slid up her back, following the length of her spine, and she arched like a cat, leaning into him. His touch sent a heady rush through her, her mind tumbling as if caught in a wave.
She hadn’t realised how much she’d wanted to be touched. That she was starved of it, too.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him, her heart pounding so violently she could hear it. A bruising pleasure rippled through her at his touch, making her chest clench. His fingers on the buttons of her shirt, unfastening them one by one. The layers between them slipping away.
