It's Always Been You by Victoria Dahl

were so eager to.”
    “How can you remember that?”
    “I remember.” His hands edged farther back, sliding into her hair. The touch was slow, dreamy, and Kate’s eyes closed of their own accord.
    “Your braid is coming loose,” he murmured, tugging softly at the leather tie. Both his hands slid through her hair, meeting at her neck to work out the tangled braid.
    This was wrong. So wrong. But hot shivers of sensation moved over her scalp and down her neck and all the way to her toes. Pleasure trickled down her spine and gathered in a pool deep in her belly. She thought she would melt right through his fingers when he finally worked her hair free and ran his hands slowly through the strands, smoothing out the waves with gentle pressure.
    Her head fell back under his ministrations, her mouth parted just slightly on a sigh. She wanted, feared, knew he was going to kiss her. The softest touch of warm breath caressed her lips and then it was him, his mouth, his lips against hers. The spicy warmth of wine invaded her senses until it was all she knew. It was comfort and unbearable excitement. It was fear and need and desperation.
    Kate heard a soft sound of want, knew that it was her own quiet moan, and opened her mouth to him. His tongue glided inside. She felt the shock of it as if she’d never been kissed, as if all those kisses they’d once shared had been an invention of her lovesick brain. Still, she wasn’t tentative—sliding her tongue over his, she arched her neck into his hands, offered her mouth up for his pleasure.
    It was his groan she heard this time as he deepened the kiss, his hands a wild tangle in her hair. Her heart swirled up and out of her chest with joy. She felt light as air and just as insubstantial, as if she would dissolve into puffs of clouds at the slightest touch.
    Her fingertips tingled, wanting to float away, so she placed them purposefully against his chest to tether them to something solid. He was definitely solid. At that touch of his body, her spirit rushed back into her flesh. She was no longer feather light. She was hot and languid, heavy with the desire that pulsed through her veins. Terrible need blossomed in her when Aidan slid a firm hand down her side, following the line of her corset to her waist and then to the curve of her hip.
    A strangled sob rose up in her throat, escaped against his lips. His hand tightened briefly on her hip and then he pulled back from her, abandoning her to her need. She curled her fingers into his coat, thinking she could simply hold on to him and stop this moment from ever ending, but his lips lifted from hers and he was whispering her name.
    “Katie.”
    She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t want to let the world back in.
    “Are you all right?” His hand smoothed her hair again, hushing her vibrating nerves.
    “No,” she answered with a small, hiccupping laugh.
    “No?” His voice was a beautiful murmur as he pulled her a little closer and pressed a long, sweet kiss to her forehead. “No, I’m not all right either.”
    What was she going to do now? Horror flooded through her.
    He must have sensed her torment. When she opened her eyes, she found him shaking his head. “Please don’t regret that, Kate.”
    “Aidan. I can’t—”
    “No. We don’t need to talk about it now. Just promise you won’t regret it.”
    She looked into the beauty of his green eyes, stared hard into the depths. There was hunger there, and tenderness, and the icy glint of deep pain as well. Pain she had caused.
    Fine. She didn’t wish to talk about it anyway, to push her lies deeper. “Yes,” she said. “All right.”
    Nodding, he stood and paced several feet beyond the table to stare at the flickering light of the stove. She stared with him, savoring this lull before the coming storm. They would have to talk sometime, after all.
    Anxiety took hold of Kate’s shoulders, tightening the muscles like drying rope. They would have to talk about it, it was inevitable.