Chapter 20 #3
A short eternity passed. Finally, Luna blinked.
She turned her head abruptly, looking into his eyes, and Nigel found their faces were a lot closer than he’d realized.
So close. Close enough that he could see the sparkle of evening stars reflected in the depths of her dilated pupils.
She blinked, taken aback, as though she’d not been aware of their proximity, and he feared she would withdraw.
But she didn’t. She caught another short breath.
Then he watched her eyelids lower, lashes fanning as her gaze dropped to his mouth.
His heart turned inside-out in his breast. He exhaled, and it was like knives, so tight, so tense was every muscle in his throat.
Slowly, slowly, as though afraid of startling a poised bird into flight, he moved his hand.
It didn’t take much. A gentle slide across the silk lining of the robe until his little finger bumped against hers.
A spark of heat, an anxious awareness. He moved his finger slightly, the barest trace.
She held so still, she might have been a statue.
Then, so faintly he might easily have missed it were his attention not exquisitely focused on that single point of contact, she moved her finger in response.
Summoning his courage, Nigel glided his hand up over hers, resting his warm palm atop her delicate dorsum. His fingers draped between the spaces made by hers, and another small eternity throbbed out both seconds and millennia in the pulse at his temples.
He watched her lips close. Watched her throat constrict in a swallow. Her lashes lowered until her eyes closed completely. But she did not turn away from him. She almost looked asleep, lying there. Frozen in that hushed silence.
Suddenly, she rotated her wrist.
Her palm came into contact with his, and their fingers interlaced, and it wasn’t an unconscious gesture made in the spontaneity of the moment. It was a choice. A choice which she made in response to his silent question.
With a little inhale, Luna turned her head forward, eyes flying open as she stared up into the sky once more, while Nigel continued to lie there, studying the curve of her cheek, the little bump on the bridge of her nose.
Memorizing the way her soft upper lip protruded slightly beyond the lower.
All rendered in such exquisite detail to his gaze, despite the deepening gloom.
He listened to the rapidity of her breaths, which she was obviously trying to disguise.
And he felt her hand in his. Felt her fingers squeezing ever-so slightly.
A glory of euphoria seemed to take hold of him.
Nigel lifted her hand from where it rested on the silken robe. Clasping it firmly, he drew it to his mouth. He breathed out against her skin for an instant before his lips came softly together and kissed the knuckles of her index and middle fingers, the gentlest brush.
Luna emitted a ragged exhale. But she didn’t pull away.
Nigel turned her hand slightly. Once again, he held it in place over his mouth, let his breath tickle against her skin.
Then he pressed his lips to the lovely blue veins on the back of her hand, a firmer contact, more certain, more sure.
Closing his eyes, he savored the feeling, wishing he might catch and hold onto it forever.
She trembled. Shivered like a leaf in his grasp.
Not from cold. His own heart felt like it was tumbling in wild freefall, but oddly enough, his pulse was steady.
He moved now with confidence, with the surety of a lover, claiming what was his.
Because in that moment, he’d never been surer of anything in his life.
He turned her hand again, exposing the lovely, delicate bones of her wrist. His mouth opened slightly as though to taste her, and he exhaled warm air against her cold flesh before unhurriedly drawing his mouth into the proper shape for a kiss. A kiss which lingered, tender but urgent.
A little whimper sounded from her throat.
Suddenly her body tensed, and she pushed upright into a seated position.
Nigel’s heart beat a terrified thud. Had he insulted her?
But no! No, he wouldn’t let that fear take hold.
And he wouldn’t give up this moment, not for anything.
Using his other arm, he pushed himself upright as well, angled so that his shoulder pressed firmly against hers.
He continued to grip her hand, their fingers entwined.
She trembled visibly, from the top of her head down her rigid spine, and he heard the glorious panting of her breaths.
How was he to interpret that sound? Was she offended? Was she afraid?
Was she . . . aroused?
Nigel didn’t speak. Even if he could find the words, he didn’t believe he could find the voice with which to utter them.
He leaned his shoulder more firmly into hers, his chin hovering close to the collar of her coat.
If he turned his head, he could press his lips to the leaping pulse point on the underside of her jaw. The temptation was strong to do so.
Instead, he lifted her hand. Let his lips meet her skin once more, this time rotating her wrist so that he could access the soft flesh of her palm.
This was dangerous. He felt craving, long denied but ever-present, yawning wide inside him.
It was like he’d been gasping for air all his life, and suddenly she’d given him atmosphere.
Desperately, greedily, he kissed her palm, then planted more kisses up the outer edge of her hand and on to her little finger, nibbled each finger by turn.
He turned her hand again, his lips molding to the contours of her knuckles.
Was that his own voice he heard, vibrating in the depths of his chest like a growl?
Was that her voice he heard, murmuring in wordless, breathless answer?
Suddenly, Luna turned. Her shoulder pushed against him, driving him back a little. But her head whipped sharply to the side, those ridiculous shooting-star earrings swinging. Her eyes flashed, locking with his for a fevered instant.
Then they dropped once more. Zeroed in on his mouth.
Her lips moved as though she sought to speak. But no words came.