Not certain what she was going to say or even what she wanted, she whispered a single, shaky word, filled with confusion and a plea for understanding, her green eyes searching his: "Please-"
Ian realized what she was asking for, but he responded with a questioning lift of his brows.
"I-" she began, uncomfortably aware of the knowing look in his eyes.
"Yes?" he prompted.
"I don't know-exactly," she admitted. All she knew for certain was that, for just a few minutes more, she would have liked to be in his arms.
"Elizabeth, if you want to be kissed, all you have to do is put your lips on mine."
"
"
"You heard me."
"Of all the arrogant-"
He shook his head in mild rebuke. "Spare me the maidenly protests. If you're suddenly as curious as I am to find out if it was as good between us as it now seems in retrospect, then say so." His own suggestion startled Ian, although having made it, he saw no great harm in exchanging a few kisses if that was what she wanted.
To Elizabeth, his statement that it had been "good between us" defused her ire and confused her at the same time. She stared at him in dazed wonder while his hands tightened imperceptibly on her arms. Self-conscious, she let her gaze drop to his finely molded lips, watching as a faint smile, a smile lifted them at the corners, and inch by inch, the hands on her arms were drawing her closer.
"Afraid to find out?" he asked, and it was the trace of huskiness in his voice that she remembered, that worked its strange spell on her again, exactly as it had so long ago. His hands shifted to the curve of her waist. "Make up your mind," he whispered, and in her confused state of loneliness and longing, she made no protest when he bent his head. A shock jolted through her as his lips touched hers, warm, invited-brushing slowly back and forth. Paralyzed, she waited for that shattering passion he'd shown her before, without realizing that her participation had done much to trigger it. Standing still and tense, she waited to experience that forbidden burst of exquisite delight . . . wanted to experience it, just once, just for a moment. Instead his kiss was feather-light, softly stroking . . . teasing!
She stiffened, pulling back an inch, and his gaze lifted lazily from her lips to her eyes. Dryly, he said, "That's not quite the way I remembered it."
"Nor I," Elizabeth admitted, unaware that he was referring to her lack of participation.
Ian realized what she was asking for, but he responded with a questioning lift of his brows.
"I-" she began, uncomfortably aware of the knowing look in his eyes.
"Yes?" he prompted.
"I don't know-exactly," she admitted. All she knew for certain was that, for just a few minutes more, she would have liked to be in his arms.
"Elizabeth, if you want to be kissed, all you have to do is put your lips on mine."
"
"
"You heard me."
"Of all the arrogant-"
He shook his head in mild rebuke. "Spare me the maidenly protests. If you're suddenly as curious as I am to find out if it was as good between us as it now seems in retrospect, then say so." His own suggestion startled Ian, although having made it, he saw no great harm in exchanging a few kisses if that was what she wanted.
To Elizabeth, his statement that it had been "good between us" defused her ire and confused her at the same time. She stared at him in dazed wonder while his hands tightened imperceptibly on her arms. Self-conscious, she let her gaze drop to his finely molded lips, watching as a faint smile, a smile lifted them at the corners, and inch by inch, the hands on her arms were drawing her closer.
"Afraid to find out?" he asked, and it was the trace of huskiness in his voice that she remembered, that worked its strange spell on her again, exactly as it had so long ago. His hands shifted to the curve of her waist. "Make up your mind," he whispered, and in her confused state of loneliness and longing, she made no protest when he bent his head. A shock jolted through her as his lips touched hers, warm, invited-brushing slowly back and forth. Paralyzed, she waited for that shattering passion he'd shown her before, without realizing that her participation had done much to trigger it. Standing still and tense, she waited to experience that forbidden burst of exquisite delight . . . wanted to experience it, just once, just for a moment. Instead his kiss was feather-light, softly stroking . . . teasing!
She stiffened, pulling back an inch, and his gaze lifted lazily from her lips to her eyes. Dryly, he said, "That's not quite the way I remembered it."
"Nor I," Elizabeth admitted, unaware that he was referring to her lack of participation.
( Judith McNaught )
[ Almost Heaven ]
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