Page 86 of Waking Roslyn

She nodded, and the way her gaze combed over me made me want to lean in right then and there. I’d practically promised I’d kiss her once I’d sorted the uniform problem, and that was taken care of now. “So there. I’ve told you. Now it’s your turn,” I said, looking into her eyes and admiring the lovely blue of them. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

She grinned. “It’s going to be my birthday soon.”

I liked this bit of information. “Oh really? When?”

“In two weeks.”

“You’ll be in Saldine by then,” I said carefully, not wanting to destroy the good mood.

She nodded.

“How old?” I asked, resisting the urge to play with the strands of hair that rested against her neck.

She looked over and grinned at me. “I like that you don’t know.”

I shrugged. “It never seemed important enough to ask.”

“I’ll be eighteen.”

“Well then, I’ll have to get you a gift.”

Even with her arms wrapped around her knees, she rocked back and forth, chewing her lip with nervous energy as she looked at me.

That look made my neck go hot. “In fact,” I said, rallying my courage, “I wonder if I could give you your gift right now?”

She blinked slowly up at me, and I could have sworn her breathing came more quickly. She swallowed hard and her eyes fell to my mouth. “What would you give me?” she asked.

I reached out and pushed her hair over her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered closed as my fingers grazed her collarbone. Her neck was so soft and I ached to move closer. “Would you accept a kiss?”

Her eyes opened immediately. “Yes, please,” she said in a strained whisper.

My insides all jumped in anticipation, thrilled by her response. I wanted nothing more than to crush my mouth to hers and let my lips communicate the depth of my want. But I couldn’t just go charging at her face. I had to do this right. So I swallowed as my heart pounded in my chest and then let myself smile. “Well then, happy birthday.”

She looked up at me with wide eyes, her breathing shallow. I leaned in carefully, not wanting to scare her or take advantage, but wanting desperately to end my own aching and just kiss her.

She didn’t lean in much, but there was an almost frantic want in her gaze that matched my own, and the way that her chin pushed forward just a little gave me the permission I needed.

At first, I only touched my lips to hers, a gentle brush, but when she made a tiny noise of appreciation, I carefully fit my lips to hers, moving slowly. Her response was somehow timid but enthusiastic at the same time. I raised my hand, sliding it behind her neck, and felt her sigh as she leaned into me more fully.

I continued to kiss her with great care, overwhelmed by the well of feeling that seemed to get deeper by the second. This girl…

We fell into an easy rhythm of push and pull, of coming together and breaking apart and then coming back for more of each other. I had been right. Kissing her was very different from the other lasses I’d kissed. This kiss meant things. Deep, profound things. I would never be the same after this.

As much as I wanted to continue kissing her for hours, or maybe even days, I was determined to do this right, to not push too much. So I pressed my lips firmly to hers one more time and then pulled back, skimming my fingers down the side of her neck and reveling in the feeling of her hands holding on to my forearms to keep herself steady.

She gazed up at me with the look of…well, the look of a woman who had been kissed, and kissed well. Stars above, I loved that look.

“That,” I said, needing to tease her if I was going to stop myself from kissing her again, “was quite improper, Lady Roslyn.”

She laughed and then her mouth settled into a joyous smile. “Good. A little impropriety makes life interesting.”

“Following in your father’s footsteps,” I said before I realized that she could take my words to mean all sorts of things. Would she take offense?

But she just grinned. “Yes,” she said, snuggling into my side. “He would be very proud of me.”

Roslyn

Leaving John after he’d kissed me the day before had been torture, but I’d returned to Bridgefield with the distinct feeling that I was walking on clouds. A lovely feeling, that.