17. Chapter Seventeen

Cally

He wants this kiss more than he wants air to breathe? Guess what? I do, too.

“Let’s kiss like this.” He gestures at our positions. We’re on opposite sides of the two-foot-wide bar. “It will be safer.”

Could he be any cuter with his eager, sparkling eyes and unfettered optimism that this will all work out even though we both know it’s a terrible, dangerous idea?

When we lean forward to kiss, we’re at such odd angles that his antlers are almost parallel to the floor. This pulls a chuckle from both of us, since it will ensure this will be the least romantic kiss in the history of the world.

After his clever ideas with book titles, it doesn’t surprise me when he’s quick to suggest a solution. He strides around the counter, opens his arms, and asks, “May I?”

Although I haven’t a clue what he wants, I nod. He chastely grips my waist and lifts me to a kneeling position on the upholstered stool so I’m taller than if I were simply standing.

Inspecting me, he murmurs, “That should work,” then hurries back to his original position across the bar from me. With a close-lipped smile stretching across his face, he leans toward me.

Because he’s never even met a woman before today, plus the whole rut thing, I assumed he would go for the gold and jump straight into the lip-on-lip action. To the contrary, his actions slow to a stop when his face crosses the midway point of the countertop.

“There’s no time limit, right? I mean, I get one kiss, but…”

“It’s not a timed event. No,” I reassure him, hoping I successfully hid my smirk.

He exhales heavily. “Good. Because I’ve neglected to tell you how beautiful you are, Calliope Quinn.”

I don’t interrupt to inform him that might be a bit of an exaggeration because I’m the only woman he’s ever been in the same room with.

Perhaps he read my mind, because he says, “Don’t sell yourself short. I may not have met any women before, but I’ve had access to the Internet for years. I’ve seen thousands of women. Beautiful women. Supermodels. No one’s as… breathtaking as you. I think it’s that you’re a triple threat.”

He cocks his head and takes my measure as though he has all the time in the world, as though his hormones aren’t insistently racing through his body demanding far more than conversation. He’s simply eating me up with his gaze, those whisky-brown eyes shining as if lit from within.

“You’re pretty. Of course, that’s a given.”

It is?

“But you’re so genuine. And although we got off to such a bad start with the phone and key incident, you’re capable of intense honesty. And you possess such ferocious bravery.”

He leans back a bit, letting me know that his heartfelt praises are more important than the kiss we both desperately want. Although I don’t know how it’s possible, I like him more every minute.

“I can’t imagine how much courage it took to climb into your car and head for parts unknown. Especially when you had just graduated high school and didn’t have much money in your pocket. It impresses me that you set off with little more than excitement and optimism.”

I’d honestly never thought of myself this way before, but he’s right. Now that I look back on my eighteen-year-old self, I have to give her credit for diving into the unknown like that, even though it might have been fueled by equal parts courage and stupidity. I won’t mention that to Sylas, though.

When he grips my hand in his large, warm one, a jolt of excitement flies through me. This makes the upcoming kiss even more promising.

We’re both looking at our hands intertwined on the white laminate countertop. His tan hand swallows mine. I like feeling tiny next to him.

“I said triple threat. If I know you, I imagine you’re waiting for the third thing I like about you. Perhaps it goes without saying, but you’re so freaking smart, Cally. The book? The cute title. The chance you took on the subject matter. The depths of how much you care. I can’t wait to see it.” His gaze returns to my face. “I’m in a desperate hurry to get to know you better.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Sylas.” The room seems so quiet as we regard each other. I imagine my smile is as goofy as his. “This would be a good time for a kiss, don’t you think?” I prod.

“Not really.”

Instead, he grazes his palm up my arm, his caress so feather-light it causes goosebumps to tide in the wake of his touch. I love that he’s in no hurry, that he’s taking his time. His hand rounds the corner of my shoulder, then he slips his palm under the orange curtain of my hair and cups my nape.

I shudder as warmth radiates from the point of contact and prickles my skin. When his thumb lingers on the sensitive spot behind my ear, I can’t help but moan softly at the exquisite pleasure radiating from his touch.

His fingertips lightly graze across my nape, sending shivers of delight surging all the way to my toes. His warm breath on my cheek sends a quiver through my belly that intensifies with each passing moment. My heart flutters like hummingbird wings. How can I feel utterly vulnerable yet completely safe at the same time?

His thumb strokes along my jawline as his fingers keep drawing lazy circles on the back of my neck. It’s surprisingly intimate. Erotic.

When he leans farther across the counter, somehow I know he’s still not approaching to kiss me. He’s on a mission to make us both wait. Instead, he nuzzles the curve where my shoulder meets my neck and inhales deeply.

“I wish you could live inside my body, Cally. Even for a minute. My senses are heightened. Let me tell you what you smell like.”

Another long inhale punctuated by a dreamy sigh.

“It’s as though I can smell your history flowing out of your pores. Of course, the top note is your recent run through the woods, and the scent of the goodest dog in the world is all over you.”

I don’t laugh at his little joke because somehow I know what’s coming next is going to blow me away and I don’t want to delay it.

“Underneath is a hint of loneliness. That only makes sense. You’ve been on this long-distance quest without any company other than T-a-t-e-r. As exciting as it’s been, I imagine there are times when you miss human company.”

When he inhales deeply, I almost feel his lips brush against my throat, but it’s so faint I’m not sure if it’s real or just my imagination.

“And there’s a sparkling, fizzy scent I’ve never smelled before. I can only guess it’s your sharp intellect and inquisitive thoughts.”

Such praise with its pinpoint accuracy makes me shiver with happiness as I again think, he gets me.

“There’s something citrusy and airy. Is this what the open road feels like to you? Endless possibilities? It makes me yearn to experience the same thing.”

He leans back and just as he knows me so well in only a few hours, I feel as though I can read his mind. He’s going to apologize once again for keeping me here.

“Don’t say it,” I whisper, cutting him off before he can utter another word. “Promise you’ve apologized for the last time, Sylas.”

He doesn’t hide his surprise, but clamps his lips shut and nods. “I promise.”

“Don’t forget. You owe me a kiss.”

Finally, finally, his lips touch me. Of course, he doesn’t do anything as mundane as attack my mouth. His lips find my clavicle and nibble at the sensitive skin there. It’s so deeply sensual I gasp softly and tip my head back to give him better access.

Both his hands circle my back as he scrapes his blunt front teeth across the bone. It’s intimate and somehow on the cusp of pleasure and pain. Although he hasn’t kissed my lips yet, my nipples are furled into tight buds as need coils low in my belly.

With each gentle nip and nibble along my jawline and neck, I feel an exquisite shiver coursing through me. His teeth graze over sensitive skin—the delicate curve beneath my earlobe, the hollow at the base of my throat—and sparks ignite deep within me.

I’m acutely aware of his hands tracing patterns on my sides as they glide upward toward the swell of my breasts. The sensation sends waves rippling through every inch he touches—an intoxicating mix of pleasure and longing that leaves me throbbing with desire.

He nips and nibbles and slides those deliciously warm lips up the column of my throat and across my jaw and finally reaches my lips.

My hands had been stuck at my sides as I let him lead in this intimate dance, but I allow my fingers to slide through his long, mahogany hair, gripping it to keep him from ending our kiss too soon.

It doesn’t surprise me when there’s no tongue and barely any pressure. This is a male who knows the rewards of waiting. Instead, he gifts me with the softest brush of his lips against mine.

Although it’s barely a kiss at all, it’s as if all the air in the room vanishes. My senses are heightened. Every nerve ending is ablaze with anticipation. There is a scent of earthiness and musk that wafts from him, mixed with something sweeter, almost like wildflowers on a summer breeze.

As his mouth moves against mine, I can taste the faint tang of musk that has been lingering in the air. It mingles with the warmth of his breath—a tantalizing blend that electrifies my tastebuds and leaves me craving more.

His kiss unleashes a riot of sensations along my synapses. His hands tighten around me, warmth radiating from where they’re lodged.

The texture of Sylas’s lips against mine is like velvet—soft yet firm—a tactile feast for both mind and body. With each whisper-soft brush against them, I feel a surge spiking from deep within me, a swelling ache.

Every sound amplifies—the catch in our breaths mingling together; hushed moans escaping our parted lips; tiny gasps disrupting momentary moments of silence. It adds another layer to this symphony of desire.

His mouth whispers promises without words. Is he receiving the same messages from me? We have no right, though. We’re probably on borrowed time. Who knows what will happen when the Army finds out I know their big secret?

All I know is that I don’t want this moment to end.