Page 31 of Liar & Champion
He kissed my forehead. “In a hurry, Kitten?”
Yes, I was, but I couldn’t admit it. I shook my head and closed my eyes, but my eyelids were tense. He kissed my closed eyes, lips soft gentle brushes that sent shivers through me.
I opened my eyes again while I still felt that strange shivery deliciousness. “What was that?”
“Kissing,” he said with a mischievous smile.
“That’s not how you would kiss Christina.”
“I’m not kissing Christina. Thank you again, for saving me from such a fate. Relax. You should be enjoying yourself, not trying to hurry up and get it over with.”
I rolled my eyes and leaned into him, pulling his head down to kiss me for real. I kept my eyes open until our lips were firmlytogether, or as firm as I could be when his lips were so soft. He moved, just a bit and that fluttery feeling went through me again, making me want to pull away and press closer at the same time. I’d been kissed, and it was more like being devoured than this soft sweetness.
He touched my hair while my kiss grew progressively softer to match his. I couldn’t help but respond to his lead, even if I’d initiated the thing.
When he smoothed his hand up my back, I melted against his strong body, lips parting. What was he doing to me? He was so soft, so slow, so utterly mouth-watering delicious.
He kissed me like we had all the time in the world, brushing his fingers over my hair, my skin, nowhere too sensitive, just my neck, cheek, hands, places used to human contact, but not like this, not sweet caresses like I was more than breakable, like he adored me. He caressed me like I was the only person he’d ever touched, like he’d been waiting his whole life, and would keep waiting as long as I needed him to. Guy was good. Maybe he was a gigolo, otherwise, how would he know exactly what I needed?
I sighed against his lips and wrapped my arms around him, settling closer against him.
There was something incredibly languid about everything, the crackling fire, the gentle breeze, the powerful man that held me with strength and tenderness that I hadn’t thought could exist in one person. This was so slow and certain, every move, every touch precisely what I didn’t know I needed. He didn’t rush anything, and eventually I trusted that he wouldn’t hurt me, and fully relaxed into his embrace.
He kissed me deeper, his mouth so soft, contrasting with his firm body, strength that I became aware of in a way I’d never noticed in a man before, because there was always pain. I forgot about lies, forgot about pretending, and I just existed in that moment of perfect sweetness while my body came more andmore alive in his arms. Time slipped away while he kissed me, while I kissed him, lips the bridge of breath and soul that kept life bright and death far away.
Why had it taken me so long to find the person who made me feel truly alive? I should have been kissing him for at least a decade. All this time, I’d thought that it would hurt, but it didn’t, not at all.
He kissed me like that, touched me like that, until the fire died down and the air got crisp and cold. I only noticed those things when he pulled away to study me with clear blue eyes that I wanted to gaze into forever.
I blinked and looked away. I didn’t have anything close to forever. “I see what you mean about needing time for kissing.” And here was my answer, very clearly demonstrated. The guy could do intimacy even with a delicate blossom like me. Dang. My last six months were going to be so much better than I’d hoped. Not that I allowed myself something as ridiculous as hope. I had a sudden urge to text Beastie and tell him that I was eating fish in the woods with the best kisser in the world. No, he’d be happy for me, and I kind of wanted him to be jealous.
“Thank you for letting me take my time. Now, we feast.” He grinned at me and then dug the fish out of the embers, using a branch to get them out. After that, he cracked open the clay and pulled out slivers of pale flesh with his fingers. He fed me, which wasn’t necessary, but I loved it, particularly when his thumb lingered on my bottom lip like he was remembering how I tasted. He felt so good, so right, so painless.
I returned the favor, feeding him fish and feeling the silken sweetness of his bottom lip with a sliver of his tongue that made me shiver. I hadn’t tasted his tongue. We would be doing that. Lots of things. But what about the six months-long dating thing? If I died too soon, it could mess up his whole thing unless wewere under contract. Marriage. Cold. Contractual, just like he said.
“Why are you looking at me like that, Kitten? Are you still hungry?”
I nodded eagerly. “I had no idea kisses could be so sweet. If you really want to marry me…” I tried to look sweet and virginal.
He raised brows and had a slightly stunned glaze in his eyes. He really was nervous about marriage. “I mean… I’m not sure if marriage is what’s right for this situation.”
But how else would his mother be convinced to give him what he’d earned if I dropped dead in two months? Nope. If we were doing this, I wasn’t screwing him over. I mean, not figuratively. Hopefully there were piles of hot steamy sex in my suddenly not-quite-so-bleak future. “Oh. You’re not very religious?” I made my eyes all big and vulnerable. Was he going to make fun of me for my religious beliefs? I did go to church, and I did have a relationship with my dead parents that wasn’t normal, probably not sane, either, but I’d blame the medication.
He swallowed hard, clearly struggling to not freak out. “No. I mean, I’m not seriously religious, no. I’ve been to churches, but I’m not…” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re saying that you don’t want to be with me without marriage?”
“I’m saying that I don’t want sex without marriage. I mean, that’s why I’m a virgin, to save myself for religious purposes.”
He looked confused. I was also confused. Saving myself from STI’s, yes, also not ever getting past kissing because it hurt too much. Religion couldn’t stop me when so many other things already did, but he didn’t know that.
“You want to be a nun?” he asked.
I laughed and then went to dig another clay-baked package out of the fire. “A nun? That’s an idea. No, I just don’t like the position so many women are put in when choosing between abortion and religion. Abstinence is safe for me. I’m okay withbeing with you for six months of marriage, but I don’t think living together would be okay. Does that make me not respect the sanctity of marriage?” I bit my lip and then broke the clay and started picking the meat off the bones. It would be a pity if he turned this part of the deal down, I mean, I was probably starting to sound like a gold-digger, suspicious as all get-out, but he needed a contract or my death would screw him over. “This fish is fantastic,” I said, throwing some honesty into that whole thing to give it a different flavor. I knew that I was an extremely talented liar, but it was good to return to the truth now and then just for variety.
He shook his head slightly. “You do know how to flatter a man. Honestly, are you all right with just the fish? Do you want me to drive into town or bother the landlords for some bread? There were always loaves with the fishes.”
Good heavens, he was sweet. Making him marry me and taking advantage of his sweetness was absolutely wrong. I’d probably be going to hell for lying to someone who took care of the sick and the afflicted with so much zeal. I pointed at him in delight. “Look at you, throwing religion around like you were born to it! You can get some bread tomorrow. Tonight, I don’t want anything other than what I have right here.” Also a few more years, but we weren’t dwelling on that.
He bent over and kissed my hand. When he raised his head, his eyes were soft, sweet, and terribly sincere. “Neither do I.”
