Page 295 of Seasons of War
“Love always is.”
Her heart stormed within her. “I can't promise you anything. I've got so much to figure out. I don't even know where to start.” She settled her hand on his chest, pain tightening her stomach. “But I need you.”
“You have me,” he said, clutching her hand against him. “Whatever happens, that'll never change.”
The want lit his eyes, so much deeper than the night on the roof when Miya tried to entice him to kiss her. He’d never act on it, not without her invitation, and for the first time since she left the palace, she truly felt at ease with a man.
Her eyes burned.
Miya had never kissed anyone she trusted, and yet she’d kissed so many people. Curiosity churned in her. Maybe it was all they’d been through, or the way he looked at her, or the memory of his thumb on her lip, but it was all she could think about. It might be nothing more than her wanting to know what love felt like, but it was there. Heavy and undeniable.
“At least once,” Miya whispered, sliding her hand up his chest to his thick neck. “I want to see your move at least once.”
He didn’t speak or move. Didn’t look like he breathed. Miya rose onto her toes, her lips pressing against his whiskered cheek in a gentle peck, arms drawing around his shoulders.
Nose brushing his.
His big hand smoothed along her cheek and cradled her face. He peered deeply into her eyes, his question so genuine. “Do you want me to kiss you, Miya?”
Her heart fluttered at his deep voice. “Yes.”
Eyes scoured her face. “You want me to bury my tongue in your mouth?”
Her breath caught, and she nodded when his soft gaze settled on her lips, too surprised to speak.
“And my hands.” His thumb slipped to her bottom lip, gaze following, while he drew it across her sensitive skin, torturously slow. “Where should I touch you?”
“What the fuck, Lance.” Miya smoothed his hand against her waist. “This is your move?”
He smirked, pressed into the little indentation beneath her mouth, and parted her lips. “This? All this I've been doing for weeks?” Lance tugged her against himself by the small of her back, lips close. “Yeah, that's my move.”
He chuckled against her mouth, and she giggled.
“You ruined it,” she whispered. “You were doing so well. So incredibly well.”
“Mmm, I think it's just what you were hoping for.” They were both still chuckling quietly when Lance's tongue slipped into her mouth and wandered all the way down hers, lips melting against hers. It stripped the breath from her lungs.
He kissed her so gently and purposefully.
Heat burned in a wave up her belly to her chest.
She sank into his arms.
No need to hold herself up. To hold herself back. Not for this one kiss.
He pulled back, and she pursued, disappointed to be done so quickly, when she saw his stare roving over her face. Awe quieted him, eyes so full of admiration that he made her feel like a work of art. He took his time looking into her eyes, down her face, at her lips. Gaze drinking up her hair and her neck.
The way he looked at her was so full of love that it looked like it hurt. “Miya…” He tilted her head back, eyes raking down her again before he sucked her bottom lip. “You're incredible.”
A deep sigh wilted her body, and she dragged herself up on his shoulders, arms tight around his neck. Now she kissed him. A deep, wanting kiss that left him breathing hard.
Her body arched against his, wanting to be closer for this one kiss.
They lost themselves to one another.
His touch set her skin on fire. Lance savored her body. She felt it in the meander of his hand along the curve of her back, up to the center of her shoulders, where he reached into her, deep into her, tender fingers grazing wounds that never healed. It felt like being kissed for the first time. Nothing like anything she’d ever experienced. As if love had a physical form that tingled across her skin.
So good and so much.
