Chapter Twenty-Six #3
Vesper took one last breath, then closed her eyes.
A beat passed that felt a century long, and then Maximilian’s lips met hers, surprisingly soft.
At first, she froze, unsure. He tasted like cider, somehow sweet and spiced at the same time.
Her lips moved against his of their own accord.
Then something took over. It wasn’t quite instinct, it didn’t come from any kind of experience.
But when she tilted her head just slightly, it felt like the most logical thing in the world to do.
She’d never felt this before, but she’d felt things like it.
The excitement coursing through her body, warming her, was the same excitement she felt when a story she was writing came together, when the last pieces of a puzzle clicked into place. She pulled back and opened her eyes.
“Well,” she asked. “How did I do?”
Maximilian’s smile was gone. He was staring at her. “I thought you said you’d never been kissed before?”
Vesper faltered. “I … haven’t.”
“Then I need to ask you another question, Miss Evans.”
“What?”
He leaned in again, pressing his forehead against hers. “How would you feel about me being your second kiss too?”
Vesper’s heart thundered in her chest. “I … I suppose that would be fine.”
This time, Maximilian hooked a finger under her chin and guided her toward him.
Their lips met a second time, but Vesper knew, from the moment they touched, that this would be different.
A shiver ran through her body as his tongue gently flicked her bottom lip, tasting her.
His fingertips dragged along her rib cage and down to her hip, featherlight, and Vesper marveled at the warmth of his hands through the nightgown’s thin cotton.
They broke apart, but only so that Maximilian could trace his lips from hers to a spot at the start of her jawline.
He began to kiss that bit of skin, over and over, working his way down her neck to the curve where her shoulder began.
He lightly dragged his teeth across the bare skin, and Vesper’s breathing turned ragged.
“Do you like this?” he whispered between kisses. “What I’m doing?”
Vesper nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
“Do you want me to continue?” he said against her mouth.
Vesper nodded again.
He pulled back, so that their eyes met. “Ask.”
Vesper started. “What?”
He smirked. “I want you to ask me for what you want.”
“I…” Vesper’s throat tightened. “I don’t know what I want.”
“Then I have a few ideas.”
He kissed her again, and Vesper’s mind shattered into a thousand pieces.
She realized that he was right, she did know what she wanted.
She thought of all the places she suddenly wanted Maximilian’s hands, all the places where she’d never been touched.
She wanted all of it, and she wanted it now.
It scared her, but it thrilled her too. All her life, she’d kept a careful handle on every aspect of it, tight control.
In this moment, she could think of nothing more exquisite than letting go.
She didn’t want to think anymore, she wanted to feel.
She wanted to know what it felt like to tangle her fingers in Maximilian’s thick curls, what would happen to this building sensation in the pit of her stomach if they kept going.
She wanted to know what came next. Maximilian stopped kissing her, and pressed his forehead against hers a second time.
“Vesper,” he whispered. “I need to tell you something.”
Vesper jolted. He’d never called her by her first name before.
She was always Evans, never Vesper. Something in Maximilian’s voice had changed.
It was still ragged, low, but she thought she heard some trepidation behind it too.
She was the one who pulled back this time.
Maximilian was looking at her the way a dehydrated man might look at a cold glass of water.
Maximilian was looking at her like she was some priceless gem he could never hope to afford.
He was looking at her … like he cared for her.
That terrified her to her core.
“I’m sorry.” Vesper put her hands on the sorcerer’s chest, and gently pushed him back. “I got carried away. It’s late, and I should probably get some rest.”
Maximilian blinked, as though he’d broken free of a trance. To Vesper’s surprise, his cheeks reddened as he scooted back too.
“Right.” He stood and straightened his bed robe. “I think I got carried away too. You were right, too much apple cider. Forgive me.”
Vesper stood. “Good night, Mr. Kite.”
“Good night, Miss Evans.”
Vesper waited a beat, then turned and walked out of the room as fast as she could. She went straight to her bedroom, and crawled into the massive bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Blood was roaring in her ears, every inch of her skin was prickling.
She’d believed, all this time, that she and Maximilian were playing a game with mutually understood rules.
Any romance between them was a part of that game, no more than a silly charade.
But what had happened just then in the den?
That hadn’t felt like a charade at all. Vesper touched two fingers to her mouth, and let herself linger on the way Maximilian’s lips had felt on hers for a few more seconds before she punched her pillow hard and turned on her side.
She screwed her eyes shut, letting the remnants of the spiked cider still in her blood lull her to sleep.
It’s a game, she reminded herself as the world quieted. That’s all this has been, and that’s all it’ll be—a game.
She held on to that thought with a viselike grip until at last she fell into darkness.