As I looked up at him I realized I wasn’t nervous anymore. I didn’t feel unsure. I stared up into his eyes, that kaleidoscope of brown and green and gold, and I had only one more question to ask.

“Will you kiss me again?”

“Yes.”

Sixteen

But Simon didn’t kiss me. Not at first. His gaze roamed over my face, as if amazed that I was there in his arms. I pictured us standing here in his kitchen until the world ended around us, just staring. After somewhere between thirty seconds and an eternity he ran his hand down my arm and up over my shoulder again. I shivered under his touch as his journey continued, up the side of my neck to trace my jawline, catching some stray curls that had come loose from my hasty updo. He was taking his time, enjoying this, but if he didn’t get on with it I was going to scream. He dipped his head down slowly and my breath froze in my chest. His exhalation was warm against my lips in that split second before he kissed me again.

He tasted like rum and heat. His mouth didn’t press so much as caress, one small kiss after another as we got used to the feel and the taste of each other. I didn’t remember reaching for him, but suddenly my hands were cradling his face, his beard rough against my palms, his groan vibrating against my lips. The small kisses became longer with each touch, each drag of his mouth on mine, and when his tongue grazed against mine those kisses turned electric. Tentative tasting became more intense exploring with tongues and lips and teeth, and sinking into his kiss was the easiest thing in the world. Breathing became something that happened to other people, and by the time we both gasped for air he’d pressed me against the kitchen counter, the edge of it hard against my lower back.

As we fought for breath, our eyes devoured each other, unable to look away. I’d known Simon for months now, and I’d seen different sides of him. Uptight rule-follower. Easygoing pirate. Both of those personas were stripped away now and I’d found a new Simon underneath. The real Simon. I liked him. A lot.

I snagged the collar of his T-shirt and tugged, and as he bent to obey me his smile was delicious against my mouth. I kissed him until that smile dissolved and he stooped a little, hooking his hands under the backs of my thighs and lifting me up against his body. If I wasn’t already short of breath, the feel of him hard against my lower belly made stars swim in my vision. He boosted me up to sit on the kitchen counter. When he stepped between my legs my dress hiked up, and he followed the path with his hands, smoothing over my knees and flirting with where the skirt stopped about halfway up my thighs. His touch zinged through my whole body, setting my skin on fire and making my breasts swell against the cotton of my dress. At this new angle he had to tilt his head up to kiss me and I raked his hair back with my fingers. He kissed me like no one ever had before, like I was the only thing keeping him alive. I hooked my legs around his hips and pulled him more into me, wanting more of his heat, his strength.

His hands skimmed up my sides, teasing the edge of my halter dress where fabric met skin, never quite touching the spots that ached the most for his hands. But when he started to tug at the knot at the back of my neck a wave of cold washed over me, and I stopped him with my hands on his wrists.

“Wait.”

He immediately let go of me and took a deep breath like he was waking up. “Sorry. Yeah.” He blinked at me with slightly unfocused eyes. “You’re right,” he finally said on a shaky breath. “We’re . . . this is moving too fast, isn’t it?”

“No!” I grabbed for him, fisting a hand in his T-shirt as he started to step away from me. I already missed his body and wanted it back against mine. He let me pull him back until he stood between my legs again, but his eyes were wary. His hands went to the kitchen counter, not back on me where I wanted them. “That’s not . . . that’s not it.”

He took my hand, threading our fingers together. “Then what is it? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just . . .” I blew out a breath as old insecurities came flooding back. I was being stupid, but I couldn’t help it. “You’ve seen me at Faire. Dressed like . . . well, dressed the way I’m dressed.”

He nodded solemnly, though his eyes still sparked with want. “I have.” If he was confused at the change in topic he didn’t say.

“I need you to know I’m not . . . I mean it’s obvious I don’t have . . .” I gestured to my chest with my free hand. “The outfit is false advertising, okay?” My shoulders slumped a little. “I don’t want you to be . . .”

Understanding broke across his face. “Disappointed?” He raised an eyebrow, and I caught my breath at the rush of heat that he sent through me. I struggled to stay on topic, but it was hard to concentrate when I wanted him touching me again.

“Yeah.”

He stretched up on his toes to kiss my forehead, following it up with a kiss on my cheek, then my jaw. “You know that’s ridiculous, right?”

“Not . . . not necessarily?” But his tongue was doing things to the skin just under my ear that made me lose the thread of the conversation.

“Seriously. Who the hell would tell you . . .” His mouth stilled on the side of my neck, then he sighed. “God damn it. I swear to God I’m going to find that ex of yours and punch him in the nose.”

I shook my head. “Later.” He was right. I was being ridiculous. The last comparison to Jake fell away as it became clear that the past had no place here. Besides, if I turned my head a little his mouth was right there and why wasn’t I kissing him? I remedied that immediately, and from the sound Simon made he didn’t mind at all. As his mouth took mine I reached for his hands and put them back on my body. He immediately curved one hand around my back, his fingers following the line of my backbone, while the other hand slid up my side then hesitated. I put my hand on his and steered it where I wanted it.

Simon broke the kiss, sucking in a breath when I closed his hand over my breast, and his other hand tightened on my back. “Fuck.” He pressed his forehead to mine, his eyes riveted to my hand over his, guiding him, encouraging his touch, and he caught on quickly. He molded the fabric of my dress over my breast, learning its size, its weight, and how could I have ever felt uncertain about this? I’d never wanted anyone’s hands on me more. My nipples tightened, hardening into almost painful peaks against the palm of his hand. His breathing deepened as my body reacted to him. “Christ, Emily.” His mouth brushed against mine, almost compulsively. “You’re perfect.”

“Language,” I chided with a voice I barely had. “You teach children with that mouth?”

He pulled away to look at me, his eyes dark and glassy with passion. “Oh, Emily.” He made my name sound dangerous. There went his eyebrow again, and his lips kicked up with a wicked smile I didn’t know he could make. “I do a lot of things with this mouth.”

My throat went dry, heat surged through me, and I shivered anew. “Yeah.” My voice was little more than a whisper. “I’m gonna need you to show me.”

“Gladly.” He kissed me again. Thoroughly. Hungrily.

“Mmm, okay, that’s pretty good,” I said when he was done. “What else you got?”

He laughed, and it was like the sun coming out. How many times had I seen him smile at Faire, and wanted that smile to be for me? Now it was, and it was almost too much to take.

“That sounds like a challenge.” He tugged on my hand, helping me down from the counter. “The kitchen counter is nice and all,” he said as he led me out of the kitchen. “I had it put in last year; still paying off that credit card.” A wicked smile lit up his face. “But I have many, many more comfortable surfaces to choose from around here.”

“Hmm. Well, I mean, I did just get here. The least you could do is give me a tour.”

“I know exactly where to start.”

We barely made it out of the kitchen before he pressed me against the wall in the hallway. We took plenty of breaks on the way up the stairs and to his bedroom at the end of the hall.

He didn’t turn on the light. Instead, he drew me into his arms in a dark bedroom that smelled like him. I couldn’t tell if it was soap or aftershave, but it was a clean, warm scent with an undertone of leather that had come to mean Simon. I wanted to bathe in it. I wanted his scent all over my skin, and when he reached for the ties at my neck I helped him push my dress down over my hips and onto the floor, leaving me in my bikini underwear and heeled sandals.

“No fair. You have on all these clothes.” I fisted my hands in his T-shirt and pulled it up and over his head, and he let it drop behind him. “It’s too dark in here,” I said. “Turn on a light or something. I can’t see you.”

“Can’t. I’d have to let go of you.” He took my hands and put them on his chest, and damn. I knew he was in decent shape, what with all the stage fighting he did. A guy who flipped a brick wall like Mitch Malone twice a day wouldn’t be a weakling. But knowing something intellectually and actually running my hands up a set of tight abs, to a muscled chest sprinkled with just enough hair to tickle my fingertips, was something else entirely. I forgot how to form words, so instead I stepped closer and let my mouth follow my hands.