Page 91 of The Naughty List
I took the glass from Dimitri’s hand and set it down beside mine on the low ledge. Then I stepped forward, into the small pocket of space between us.
He didn’t move.
I reached up, rested my fingers on his jaw, and saw his throat jump as he swallowed.
“Because I couldn’t keep pretending,” I said, my voice low. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you might taste like.”
And then I kissed him.
There was no music. No crescendo of violins or clamor of trumpets—just the wet click of our lips and the pounding of my heart, too loud in my own ears.
He gasped into my mouth, like he’d forgotten how to breathe until now.
It wasn’t a perfect kiss. Our noses bumped, and my hand shook a little, and I felt him trembling beneath his coat like a storm just starting. But when he kissed me back, God, when he kissed me back, it was like the world cracked open.
I broke away first, only because I had to. Because if I didn’t, I was going to fall apart right there.
We were both breathing hard. Not like men who had climbed stairs, but like men who’d been holding their breath their whole lives and had finally exhaled.
“This,” I said softly, brushing my thumb against his cheek. “This is why I brought you here.”
Dimitri blinked, dazed. “Because of the kiss?”
I nodded. “Because of everything leading up to it.”
And Dimitri kissed me again.
This time, there was nothing gentle about it. It was hunger and terror, and his hands clutched at my coat like he was afraid I might disappear. I pressed him back against the cold tile wall and gave him everything I had.
We broke apart, panting, eyes locked. Every part of me felt like it was sparking.
There was a pause. Long. Heavy. Beautiful.
