wait until you have three more hit games under
your belt before you start up another money-soaking venture.”
He brushed her hair as he stood. “Money-soaking?” She
flashed panic that he’d go back on the expedition funding, but he was smiling
down at her. His teeth were perfect. He was perfect.
He held out a hand and helped her rise. They cleared the
table, and hands entwined, strolled off across the Mall.
By the time they got back to the hotel flat, May was
emotionally and physically spent. Beau looked to be, as well. But he still held
her hand as she went to put her leftovers in the fridge. She leaned against the
counter. She needed to.
“I don’t think I’ve wanted to go to bed at seven since I
was a baby.”
“It’s three a.m. in
Scandinavia
.
Maybe you’re going native.” He lifted their entwined hands and kissed her
knuckles. His eyes were warm and open, watching her. Wanting her.
Something had changed, between last night and now. She
could read him better, and he certainly could read her. Deliciously scary.
She wanted this. Sure, he’d be gone in three days, but
that just made it safer, right? Although it was a rather generous reading of
Sadie’s order to make him happy and get him to the party on time. She pulled
their hands closer and rested them on her shoulder. She watched his mouth, his
most expressive feature. It opened slightly, closed, and that dimple appeared
in the corner. He loosened his fingers from hers and spread them across her
shoulder. Tension she didn’t even know she was carrying flowed away.
She wanted more. She reached for his hip, and guided him
closer. He took the hint, putting his other hand on her hip. His touch pushed
waves of delicious warmth through her abdomen, waking up her sleeping libido.
She traced his lower lip with her index finger. It
wasn’t perfectly even, a shade wider on the left, but that just made it more
delectable. His breath hitched, and his mouth opened a little. Hers matched it
in anticipation.
Then it closed, as if in hesitation. She leaned in and
kissed the wider edge, pulling his lip to open it again.
It worked. He took her lips full-on, his kiss hungry.
She followed his lead, anticipated him, really, as if they’d been kissing for
years. His lips felt as velvety good as they looked. When his tongue flicked
hers, introducing itself, she melted. His hands, still on her shoulder and at
her side, clamped on tighter, as if he’d never let her go. Good.
They had to come up for air. But instead of kissing her
again, like she wanted, like she needed, he spoke.
“May, beautiful, fragile May.” The tone was wrong.
“No, I want this.” She sounded desperate. Well, that’s
how she felt.
He pushed a strand of hair that had fallen in front of
her face. “It’s been a long day, and we’ve weathered some stormy seas. Remember
this morning?”
She frowned. She didn’t want to remember this morning.
“You helped me feel better.” Help me some more, she wanted to say, but that
would be needy.
“Don’t frown. It’s beautiful, but it hurts me.”
“You don’t want me?”
He groaned and pressed his forehead into hers. “How
could I not want you? Of course I do.”
“But.” She wouldn’t look into his eyes. She could still
see the sigh-smile grow across his lips. His underused lips.
“But I’m tired, and so are you. I want you to be sure,
not regret anything. I never want you to feel like it was a mistake.”
“You think I’m so fragile?”
“I think I am. What if I can’t perform? I want you to
think I’m perfect, but I can barely keep my eyes open. You don’t want that, do
you?”
She kind of did. He could read her face, his smile said.
He pressed his lips into hers again, too briefly.
“If we feel the same in the morning, look out.”
****
When May woke, rested but restless, the clock read just
short of five in the morning. Then she remembered. They’d gone to bed at eight
at night. She brushed her hair and
your belt before you start up another money-soaking venture.”
He brushed her hair as he stood. “Money-soaking?” She
flashed panic that he’d go back on the expedition funding, but he was smiling
down at her. His teeth were perfect. He was perfect.
He held out a hand and helped her rise. They cleared the
table, and hands entwined, strolled off across the Mall.
By the time they got back to the hotel flat, May was
emotionally and physically spent. Beau looked to be, as well. But he still held
her hand as she went to put her leftovers in the fridge. She leaned against the
counter. She needed to.
“I don’t think I’ve wanted to go to bed at seven since I
was a baby.”
“It’s three a.m. in
Scandinavia
.
Maybe you’re going native.” He lifted their entwined hands and kissed her
knuckles. His eyes were warm and open, watching her. Wanting her.
Something had changed, between last night and now. She
could read him better, and he certainly could read her. Deliciously scary.
She wanted this. Sure, he’d be gone in three days, but
that just made it safer, right? Although it was a rather generous reading of
Sadie’s order to make him happy and get him to the party on time. She pulled
their hands closer and rested them on her shoulder. She watched his mouth, his
most expressive feature. It opened slightly, closed, and that dimple appeared
in the corner. He loosened his fingers from hers and spread them across her
shoulder. Tension she didn’t even know she was carrying flowed away.
She wanted more. She reached for his hip, and guided him
closer. He took the hint, putting his other hand on her hip. His touch pushed
waves of delicious warmth through her abdomen, waking up her sleeping libido.
She traced his lower lip with her index finger. It
wasn’t perfectly even, a shade wider on the left, but that just made it more
delectable. His breath hitched, and his mouth opened a little. Hers matched it
in anticipation.
Then it closed, as if in hesitation. She leaned in and
kissed the wider edge, pulling his lip to open it again.
It worked. He took her lips full-on, his kiss hungry.
She followed his lead, anticipated him, really, as if they’d been kissing for
years. His lips felt as velvety good as they looked. When his tongue flicked
hers, introducing itself, she melted. His hands, still on her shoulder and at
her side, clamped on tighter, as if he’d never let her go. Good.
They had to come up for air. But instead of kissing her
again, like she wanted, like she needed, he spoke.
“May, beautiful, fragile May.” The tone was wrong.
“No, I want this.” She sounded desperate. Well, that’s
how she felt.
He pushed a strand of hair that had fallen in front of
her face. “It’s been a long day, and we’ve weathered some stormy seas. Remember
this morning?”
She frowned. She didn’t want to remember this morning.
“You helped me feel better.” Help me some more, she wanted to say, but that
would be needy.
“Don’t frown. It’s beautiful, but it hurts me.”
“You don’t want me?”
He groaned and pressed his forehead into hers. “How
could I not want you? Of course I do.”
“But.” She wouldn’t look into his eyes. She could still
see the sigh-smile grow across his lips. His underused lips.
“But I’m tired, and so are you. I want you to be sure,
not regret anything. I never want you to feel like it was a mistake.”
“You think I’m so fragile?”
“I think I am. What if I can’t perform? I want you to
think I’m perfect, but I can barely keep my eyes open. You don’t want that, do
you?”
She kind of did. He could read her face, his smile said.
He pressed his lips into hers again, too briefly.
“If we feel the same in the morning, look out.”
****
When May woke, rested but restless, the clock read just
short of five in the morning. Then she remembered. They’d gone to bed at eight
at night. She brushed her hair and
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