Chapter 8 #5
Peace and a sense of companionship quite unlike anything Rand had ever known lapped about his consciousness, soothing, supporting, indescribably comforting.
Him and her walking through the quiet of a slumbering house…
simply felt right. The conviction that she was the perfect lady for him had taken root in his soul.
Practical, down to earth, solidly supportive, with an innate understanding of inventions and inventors that no other young lady could possibly have, she was a foil perfectly fashioned to complement him.
He would be a fool not to seize her.
They reached their doors—one on either side—and halted.
This time, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t let the moment when she turned to bid him goodnight elude him.
His eyes seeking hers through the enveloping shadows, he caught her hand; with his eyes locked on hers, he raised her fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
He waited a heartbeat to see her eyes flare, then smoothly drew her closer, nearer—to him—and as his other hand slid around her waist, urging her closer yet, he bent his head and covered her lips with his.
He’d intended it to be a gentle caress—a statement, an assurance, and a glimpse of what might be.
But he’d misjudged.
His inner self leapt at the chance to taste her, to steep himself in the pleasures of her mouth, of her lips and tongue…
Felicia’s head spun. She’d been kissed before, but never like this—with such direct and compelling mastery that she and all her senses had surged in response.
Her lips parted beneath the temptation of his; she quelled a delicious shiver as his tongue teased the slick softness, then slid between and settled to explore.
To engage and expand her senses.
Her wits had gone wandering; to where, she didn’t care. Instinctively, she came up on her toes the better to participate in the enthralling exchange; she leaned into him, her hands coming to rest, palms flat, on his chest.
Even through the fabric of his coat and shirt, she felt the alluring heat of him. Beneath her hands, she sensed the reality of a flesh-and-blood man.
Desire bloomed. She’d never felt it before, yet she knew it for what it was and embraced it.
Angling her head, she surrendered to a temptation she hadn’t even thought to resist and kissed him back.
Minutes of heated communion had passed before Rand’s wits punctured the fog of his senses enough for him to realize how definitely she was returning his caresses. Not shyly or tentatively but absolutely determinedly. With deliberation.
Desire leapt and passion ignited.
He tightened his hold on her, dipped his head, and steered the kiss into even deeper waters.
She made a wordless sound in her throat, clutched his lapels, and followed his lead with her own brand of ardor.
Need—sudden and shocking—flared and surged.
The unprecedented force—fierce and demanding—was enough to rock him. To free his wits from the engrossing fog of desire so he could assess…
Too far, too fast.
He knew that, yet…
It was an effort to draw back from the kiss. To—eventually—lift his head and allow their lips to part.
He looked down as her lids rose and her wide eyes slowly focused. As he watched, a faint frown invested her expression.
He was holding her against him, within one arm; his other hand was still wrapped about the fingers he’d kissed.
Then he saw her eyes search his, search his expression. He cleared his throat and murmured, “That was intended as a thank-you.”
She blinked. “What for?”
He felt his lips curve—saw her eyes track the gesture. “For being you.”
Shackling his impulses wasn’t easy, but he managed to force himself to release her. His arm falling from her, he stepped back. At the last, he opened his hand and freed her fingers. Felt them only slowly slide away.
He had to clamp down on a flaring impulse to seize them again.
She continued to stare at him through the dimness, studying him, yet in no way rejecting his advance.
That knowledge shook his resolution—the assumption that he would allow her to sleep alone that night. He drew in a tight breath, inclined his head by way of a goodnight, then turned and stepped to his door.
Not yet, not yet. He kept his feet moving. Their connection had evolved so very quickly; she would need time to absorb and accept. Until she did…he had to give her time.
It couldn’t be yet.
Felicia watched Rand open his door and, without a backward glance, go into the room and shut the panel.
Still, she stood staring, her heart thudding. Slowly, she raised a hand and touched her fingertips to her throbbing lips.
This, then, was how it felt to be swept off one’s feet.
To be caught up in a maelstrom formed of desire, to fall prey to the need and hunger that flowed in desire’s wake—passions she’d never until now experienced.
Minutes ticked by as she stood outside her door and considered and weighed and experienced again the feelings he and that revealing kiss had evoked.
She felt the rippling echoes sink deep, to her soul.
Eventually, the tumult of her senses faded. Slowly, she turned, opened the door, and walked into her room.