Page 25 of Hensley Manor
My smile fell a bit.
When he moved toward me, something in his expression had changed. The humor was gone and replaced by a sudden seriousness. My back bumped the counter as he moved closer, less than a foot away.
“I admit, I didn’t know what to expect when I first met you,” he said, studying my face. I wondered what he saw. Did he see how my breathing kicked up a notch when meeting his deep blue eyes? “But I feel a connection with you, Cole. And forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I think you feel it, too.”
Heat traveled up my neck and to my scalp. “I do.”
The type of connection was still yet to be determined, but we both feltsomething.It was a start. Mine felt like an intense lust, stronger than I’d ever experienced. However, the pull toward Ian went beyond the physical. I found I actually wanted to get to know him. To learn all there was to know about the sexy innkeeper and the reason for the occasional flashes of sadness in his eyes.
He took another step forward, so close our bodies nearly touched.
“I don’t understand it,” he whispered, and his breath tickled my lips. “I’ve only known you two days, but I feel…”
Like I’ve known you my whole life.
I almost repeated my inner thought but held my tongue. He’d think I was crazy. Well, even crazier than he probably already believed I was.
Ian’s hand moved to my waist, barely touching me, as if he was asking permission. I granted it. I brought him flush against my chest, no space between us, and I suspected he felt just howmuchI granted him the permission. To kiss me. To touch me.
I had never wanted someone so much.
“Mr. Hensley?” Benji said, walking into the kitchen. He was one of the waiters for dinner service.
Ian shifted away from me, but only slightly. “Yes?” His eyes remained locked on mine.
“We are on our last few bottles of wine. Should I go into town for some more before dinner?”
“That would be excellent.” Ian finally looked at Benji and smiled.
After Benji left, I assumed the sizzling moment had fizzled out. Interruptions usually broke the magic of those moments, and it was hard to pick back up.
Boy was I wrong.
Ian gripped my waist and gently tugged me back toward him. He angled his head down, inching his mouth closer. He didn’t kiss me, though. Blue eyes watched me as he glided his nose along my cheek. Chills spread down my spine, and it felt strange to be chilled and burning at the same time.
His lips were an invitation. One I gladly accepted.
I moved forward, closing the gap between our mouths. The feel of Ian’s lips was even better than I imagined, soft as they lightly touched mine. Neither of us parted our lips at first. We pressed them together once. Twice. Learning the feel of each other. Soft, hesitant kisses turned a little heavier, the pressure increasing as we got more into it.
And then Ian slid his tongue into my mouth.
I fucking groaned and clung onto him tighter, feeling like I was about to explode into a million pieces. My hands tangled in his apron, holding him as close as possible. He caressed my shoulders, then my neck, before cupping my face and deepening the kiss.
Kissing him, I didn’t think about how strange being here was; not just in this kitchen with the sexiest man I’d ever met, but in this whole damn Christmas obsessed town. I didn’t think about anything but Ian. How he felt, how he tasted.
Something had brought us together, in this moment, and I didn’t care how or why it happened. I was just glad it did.
With each swipe of his tongue on mine, my walls crumbled even more. A kiss had never been so earthshattering before. I was at his mercy. If he would’ve told me to get on my knees, I would’ve dropped in a heartbeat.
He held my face as he kissed me before moving his hands up and twisting his long, beautiful fingers in my hair. The pressure of his lips lifted a little, and his fingers trailed along my scalp. He broke the kiss.
“How did you get this?” he asked, gently brushing the bangs off my forehead and staring at the jagged scar above my brow.
Shit.
I jerked back and collided with the counter. I had nowhere to run. After quickly moving my hair back in place, I cleared the tightness in my throat. “Don’t remember.”
Ian’s brow creased. He knew I was lying. No one forgot the story behind a scar like mine.
