Page 43 of The Impossible Princess
“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”
20
Sexy Pirate
MAX
It is like a piece of the International Space Station has smashed into my chest. Air disappears from my lungs, and in the beat before it comes rushing back, Clara shifts on the couch to get away. Elbows and knees bump. We’ve become so tangled up that it gets worse before it will get better.
“I’m sorry,” she says, stumbling through her words as she scoots away. “I shouldn’t have asked. What are you thinking? No, no, no, don’t tell me that, either.”
“Clara,” I say, hands settling on her waist. She stills, halting her retreat, bracing herself against my shoulders. When I know I have her full attention, I answer. “Yes.”
Her breath hitches and the pulse at the base of her throat is visible. I imagine the sequence of events that might unfold if I allow myself to brush a knuckle against it. I would tug on her waist, my hand turning to push through her hair, following the curve of her bones.
It’s easy to imagine because it’s not the first time my mind has chased down this path. It’s not the first time today, even. And, as with those other times, I force myself to remember that Clara doesn’t want this. Not now. Not really. She laid out her plans to me weeks ago, and they don’t include a serious relationship. I have to keep my mind focused on that.
Suddenly, Clara swallows and gives a brief nod—a sign she has come to a decision. I wait for more apologies and an awkward dive for her shoes.
Instead, she says, “I’ve thought about kissing you, too.” Her green eyes shift away, and I feel myself turn to stone.Don’t move, Max.But my mind is like the bridge of a ship in the middle of a dangerous maneuver—loud alarms, tense orders, and 4,000 tons of steel to navigate in a precise and pinpoint way.
She bites along her lower lip. “Maybe…maybe we could just get it out of the way, relieve this tension, and then forget it ever happened?” she finishes, the sound of my refrigerator humming softly in the background.
My eyes widen slightly. Clara has said the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life. Stupider than an Aksel Kroner movie, even. My gaze shifts to the bouncing clock on the television. It’s The Witching Hour for Stupid Things. There is no way I could ever forget her kiss. No way I would let her forget mine.
But my imagination grabs me again, and it’s a testament to how much strain these last hours have put me under—with her ratty sweatshirt, chipped polish, and shifting on the sofa, getting closer and closer and closer each time—that I reach for her bit of faulty logic like a life preserver.
“Definitely.”
She smiles but it disappears when I tug her slightly towards me. Her hands slide off my shoulders and land on the back of the sofa, bringing her lips closer, her breath mingling with mine. My smile evaporates, too, but she gives a shaky laugh and suddenly I close the distance, stilling her warm mouth with mine.
There is no going back and choosing the wisest course—the slow, gradual incline of friendship. We cannot un-kiss.
For a half-second, I plot out my path through to the other side of this minefield. I should make sure she enjoys this and leave her wanting more. I’ll be in control. I won’t let her see how much—
She drops lightly against my chest, fitting in my arms as though we are two pieces of the same puzzle, and the emotions I’ve been holding in check for weeks pour through me, searching for release.Keep it light. Keep it easy.Thoughts chase through my head even as I run my fingertips over her waist.
Then she lifts her hand and wraps it around my neck, brushing her palm against the short-cropped hair, stroking the bristles, and I know I am lost. She is soft, sweet, and feels exactly right. I lift my hand but halt it in midair as a final thought burns through my head. Though I could deepen the kiss, taking everything I can from this single encounter, I don’t want it to be the last. I don’t want a single kiss. I want her.
My chest tightens painfully even as I savor the last moment.
Then I lift my head, drawing a broken breath. Clara’s eyes are glazed, and I ball my hands into fists, fighting off the urge to pull her back.
“Is it out of your system?” I ask, my voice sounding winded to my ears. She gives a husky laugh, resting her forehead against my own. Our breath mixes, and for a wild moment, I wonder if she’s changed her mind about us.
I loosen my grip so that my fingertips are barely grazing her waist and the soft curve of her hip. Then she leans back, giving me a nervous glance as she slides from the sofa and gets to her feet, eyes avoiding mine. A wobbly smile is aimed ten centimeters above my head. “You should hire out, lieutenant commander. You’re more reviving than a shower and good night’s sleep.”
She regrets it. Damn. “Clara—”
She rolls her neck, stretching, and my hands tighten. She has got to stop doing that. Then she gives a quick, bewildered lift of her shoulders. “Kissing was a bad idea.”
“Bad?” I ask, a smile tucking my cheek.Keep it light. Keep it easy.
I can see the panic in her eyes and an echo of it tightens my stomach. I’ve moved too quickly. I’ve scared her off.
“The problem, Max, is that it wasn’t bad.” She shakes her head and I see my opening. “You don’t look like a Navy man when you smile like that. You look like a sexy pirate.”
“You’ve obviously not met very many real pirates.” She punches my arm, but an arrogant certainty has hold of me now. She wants to kiss me. I can save this mess.
