Page 120 of Florescentia

I swallowed hard, the back of my neck burning with this newfound bashfulness.

“Look at me.” His voice was low but gentle.

I did.

“Let go, let me show you,” he whispered, “just a taste won’t hurt.”

“Only a taste,” I said firmly.

“As you wish,” he mouthed.

Suddenly, everything around us was of little importance. I stopped hearing the trees, the surrounding noises that filled the air, even the worry of the mess of stray fruits.

He was looking at me, but not like before.

It was gentle, like a deep drift to sleep. His lips parted, then closed, as if he was having a second thought, resisting. He glanced at my lips—quickly, but not quick enough. Why was he fighting so hard? He could repeat all he wanted that he was indifferent, but I knew better.

I leaned up on my elbows, our noses brushing before mine touched his cheek.

My eyes closed. Maybe he felt the tickle of my lashes, because I swore I heard a restrained sigh.

“This won’t stop me,” I warned him. The words may have touched his lips before they reached his ears. “From wanting to leave.”

“I couldn’t stop you even if I wanted.” There was a strain in his voice.

Whatever struggle permeated between us dissolved as soon as our lips touched. Silk against pearls, water on skin, his lips on mine: all things easy to fall for.

His tongue swept against mine. The sting of his talons in my back as he wrapped me in an embrace.

My back arched, his lips pressing harder to mine. With arms wrapped around his neck, my leg hooked high on his waist.

With every desperate kiss, my head became lighter. My body settled, my appetite faded, and all I could think of was him.

“Tell me,” I said, breaking our kiss, “do you think of me?”

His brow creased, his hand reaching to cup my face. “Of course—”

“No.” I pushed his hand away. “When you aren’t with me, out here, in the great unknown—do you stop to think of me?”

“No marvel in the known universe could force you from my mind.” He pressed closer.

“You lie.”

“I have seen the birth and death of stars, of cosmoses unseen.” He shook his head slightly, as if in disbelief that I was asking. “I have witnessed the death of stars, the stones that glitter a hundred thousand times brighter than your world’s rarest gem—from every piece you come from, and the space between, there is no need to see any more marvels after I’ve seen you.”

If I’d let the words hang in the air any longer, I might have had time to consider them.

Instead, I believed them.

I lay back, reaching down for my petticoat skirts.

He stared, his chest rising and falling like he was fighting back the buildup. It was as if a daze had washed over him.

Slowly, I lifted the skirts. I raised my foot to his chest, letting the skirt slip up my calf, then stopped just below my knee.

I could feel his illusion of a human heart, pumping like he was already chasing.

Did he need permission?