Moth to the Flame by Maxine Barry Page A

of seeing just that look in those stunning blue eyes, ever since the first day Emily had introduced them. Slowly, cautiously, he leaned forward, as if expecting any moment to see her jump up and run away. But as he leaned over her, carefully placing his knees either side of her on the flat bottom of the punt, she began to lean towards him, not away. Her lips fell slightly open. He could hear her take in a sudden, deep breath. The air around them seemed to quiver, sigh, and then still into utter tranquillity as his lips dipped towards her. His hand came up to cup her cheek, and discovered that her skin was so soft against his fingers that it felt like padded satin.
    He caught a waft of the scent from her hair—fresh violets.
    She swayed further towards him, her heartbeat suspended. When their lips finally met, he felt a jolt go through him, as if he’d been hit by an invisible bolt of lightning.
    She tasted sweet, of champagne and oranges and something more . . . something so utterly feminine, so totally Alicia, that he had to hold himself back from dragging her into his arms and trying to absorb the very essence of her.
    Alicia’s eyes feathered closed, the image of his melting-chocolate eyes and waves of nut-brown hair remaining imprinted on the back of her retinas. With her eyes closed, she was in a world of sound, smell, taste and darkness. She could feel the cold and warm patches on her hands and face, where sunlight and shadow took it in turns to caress her. She could feel his fingers on her cheek, four tiny points of heat radiating through her, and the heat from his thumb under her chin. She could smell him—the scent of soap and aftershave, new shirt and man.
    The water lapped at the punt, causing the tiniest waves of movement in the water beneath them. She felt, quite literally, as if she were floating . . . And, over and above all of that, superseding everything, the touch of his lips on hers. Cool but warm. Firm but gentle. Simple, but meaning everything. A kiss that seemed to go on for ever.
    Her own hand came out to cup his head, her fingers smoothing a path through the thick mass of cool hair, to the warm scalp beneath. She opened her mouth wider, inviting deeper, greater intimacies. Jared groaned. It was such a sudden, unexpected, primitive sound, that it startled her.
    Jared felt her instinctive surprised withdrawal immediately. And, before Alicia could stop him, he lifted his lips, leaning back, hoping he didn’t look as completely shattered as he felt. He’d kissed women before. Had done more, much more, than that. But nothing had ever prepared him for the perfection of such a moment; a moment that now was gone for ever. It left a bittersweet taste in his soul.
    Alicia sighed. She wanted him back where he’d been. Wanted to tell him that she’d been caught unawares, that was all, and that she wasn’t scared, wasn’t . . .
    But he was already leaning back on his heels. His hands falling away from her face. And although she loved his smile, she hated the smile he gave her now, because it meant he was moving further away from her.
    Dragging them back to that other place called reality.
    As if to prove her right, Jared, telling himself it would be disaster to rush her, struggled for something to say, and managed to shrug one shoulder nonchalantly.
    â€˜We’d better finish the Bucks Fizz, before it gets warm.’
    A drake mallard, discovering their hideaway, swam beneath the canopy of willow and quacked hopefully for a piece of the feast. The comical sound finally snapped Alicia out of her dream-like trance. She looked at the duck, at his glossy emerald head and curly tail, and smiled tremulously. ‘I don’t think this chap is in danger of sinking us,’ she laughed determinedly, and tossed him a piece of bread, fiercely telling herself that she could be as adult about all this as Jared.
    She must get rid of this stupid idea that a single kiss meant