His hands move to the back of my head, holding me in place, as if he cannot bear to free me. I take it as my cue to open my mouth, to deepen the kiss. His tongue slides past my parted lips, tangling with mine.
I wonder if I’ve somehow slipped into a different world—one where the guy I’ve been pining after for summers is actually kissing me senseless. Then, Cenric’s teeth graze my bottom lip, and I decide that if this is a different world, I never want to go back to where I was before.
I run my hands up Cenric’s arms, marveling at the feel ofhis muscles beneath my fingertips. Truly, does this man do nothing but train all day? Not that I’m complaining.
Another crack of thunder shakes the tent, and I jump. Cenric draws back, concern etched on his face.
“Are you all right?” he asks, his voice husky.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak, especially when my brain is busy doing cartwheels and shouting,He kissed me! He actually kissed me!to form coherent sentences.
“The storm...” he starts, glancing toward the tent flap.
Oh no, you don’t.
I tug him back to me, my lips crashing against his in a fierce, passionate kiss. Boldly, I stake my claim, declaring that he is mine and mine alone.
For once, I’m not the timid girl trailing after him. I’m a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to take it.
And what I want is Cenric.
All of him.
His mind, his body, his heart.
I pour all that longing and desire into the way my lips claim his.
Then, he does the unthinkable. He stiffens and draws back. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Cenric.” I try to bring his mouth back to mine, but he shakes his head.
I sit there, my cheeks burning hotter than a blacksmith’s forge. What in the name of all the gods was I thinking? I’ve never been so bold in my entire life.
Now look where it’s gotten me.
Cenric stands, his face an unreadable mask. “I should go.”
I want to reach out, grab his hand, and beg him to stay, but I don’t.
The tent flap falls shut behind him, leaving me with nothing but the memory of his lips against mine.
Chapter
Thirty
EVERLY
My eyes flutteropen as I reflect on last night, wondering if it was real or just another vivid dream.
I lift my hand, touching my lips, and the memory crashes back.
Cenric kissed me.
My pulse throbs in my throat as I trace my bottom lip, still feeling the ghost of his touch, the warmth of his mouth, the slight scratch of his stubble against my chin.
It wasn’t a dream.
It was real. Wonderfully, achingly real.
