She smiled. Her simple touch nearly unhinged him. “I must confess I felt…something during our kiss beneath the mistletoe. Something I didn’t expect. Did you?”
“Celia, perhaps we shouldn’t discuss this now.” He protested only because he didn’t know what else to say. His dream was coming true. She was touching him. She’d felt something when he kissed her. The next logical step would be for him to agree and kiss her again. Kiss her until she melted in his arms and begged him to never let her go.
But he couldn’t make that next step. He wasn’t the man for her or her son. She needed to find someone better. Wealthier. Titled.
He could offer her nothing.
“This is the perfect time to discuss it.” She glanced about before her gaze returned to his. “We’re all alone, and no one can spy upon us. The house has been crawling with people for days. We should take advantage of this stolen moment.” She curled her hands about his shoulders, her admiring gaze locked on his chest. “You’re very strong, Damien. Why have I never noticed before?”
Perhaps she’d never seen him as a man before. She’d only finally realized, and it was too late.
“Celia.” He grasped her about her wrists, trying to stop her wandering hands.
“You’re not making any sense.”
“No, I’m making plenty of sense. Everything fits. We fit.” She smiled, and the sight of it momentarily dazzled him. “When you kissed me, it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Not even with—” She stopped.
Her revelation surprised him. It surprised him so much he stood there like a mute fool when she disentangled herself from his grip and wrapped her arms around his neck. She tugged so he had no choice but to dip his head, and their mouths aligned perfectly.
“I want you to kiss me again, Damien.” Her sweetly scented breath wafted across his lips. “Please.”
Where Celia got the nerve to ask Damien to kiss her again, she wasn’t quite sure, but no matter. Not when she had the object of her desire standing before her, his mouth hovered over hers.
Yet he hesitated. He seemed nervous, discouraging even, which confused her. His earlier kiss hinted at barely restrained passion.
And she wanted another taste. A deeper taste.
Her cheeks heated. How she wished she could fan her face.
“Celia.” She loved how he said her name. Low and velvety, the sound rumbled from his chest and set her entire body aquiver. “This cannot happen again.”
“Why ever not?” She hadn’t worn gloves since she was with family, and she was thankful. This way she could touch him with her bare fingers. Feel his silky dark brown hair, the warmth of his skin, its smooth texture. Though she didn’t understand his sudden reluctance, resolve filled her.
It was imperative she give it another go. To see if she’d experience again the same spark she did earlier.
He jerked away. “We’re friends, Celia.”
His curt words hurt, but she refused to show it. She stood straighter and squared her shoulders. “Funny. What we shared beneath the mistletoe earlier didn’t feel much like a friendly kiss.”
“You misinterpreted it, then.” His gaze skittered away, as if afraid to meet hers. She knew he was lying.
It hadn’t been a quick kiss between friends. It had been much more.
Celia sighed. “All this talk of kissing is filling me with an urge, you know.”
His brows lowered. He was so handsome when confused. ?
?What sort of urge?”
“Well, I already declared my request earlier, but I believe you’re denying me by not answering. It’s rather frustrating.” She tilted her head, trying to get closer to his mouth.
“You are rather frustrating.”
Before he got another word out she reared up on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his, silencing him. She’d provoked him. Taunted him. He deserved it, what with the way he denied her. What was wrong with sharing another kiss? It was harmless.
Yet Celia realized rather quickly when it came to Damien, his kisses weren’t harmless whatsoever. They were devastating. Delicious. The soft press of his mouth settling upon hers and his hands coming round her waist. She was surrounded by him. Oh, and the sparks were there, yes indeed. They were exploding between them with every brush of his mouth against hers.
She wanted more.