apologize.”
“I…do?”
“Another kiss, I think.”
“ I should apologize to you ?”
His smile was positively naughty. “Fine, then. I will apologize to you.” His gaze fastened on her pink lips. “After,” he murmured absent-mindedly.
“After wh—?“
And then, with a tug, she was his.
Her lips weren’t strawberry-flavored this time; they tasted better. He wanted to lose himself in her, but knew that he couldn’t afford to. Knew that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
So he released her, after not nearly long enough. He was beginning to suspect that a lifetime wouldn’t be enough time to enjoy her. When she sat back, her eyes were glazed and her lips seemed redder, plumper. He’d done that to her, and knew that his arrogant smile was probably entirely inappropriate.
“I’m sorry.” Her first words threw him out of his gloat, especially when he’d been expecting to apologize to her .
“What?”
“I’m sorry that you felt used when I kissed you at the Gingerbread House.”
Carefully he began to unwrap her braid. “I am not sorry for kissing you, then or now.”
And that’s when she smiled, and he knew she’d been teasing, the same as him. “Me neither.”
When she looked at him like that— bozhe moy !— he wanted, needed to kiss her again. So he did what any sane, sensible man deeply attracted to a woman he found himself with under a secluded tree would do. He changed the subject.
“I think I like you better with your hair down.”
She sniffed and pulled the braid out of his hand. But she was smiling when she said. “Yes, I can see why you might think that. Most of the time it’s a pain, though.”
Zelle seemed willing to change the subject, so Dmitri accepted the opening, leaning back on his elbows, careful to hide a part of his anatomy that would certainly prove him a fool for not kissing her again. He wondered how improper it would be if he removed his jacket. Wondered if he cared. “So why don’t you cut it? Not that I’m advising it, of course. It is handy.”
She actually stuck her tongue out at him, as if they were playing. The sight did nothing to make him feel playful, though. “You think that I haven’t? I cut it once a year, on my birthday. It’s the fastest-growing hair I’ve ever seen.”
“When is your birthday?”
“Next month. The first. I’ll cut off at least three feet, I think.”
That got his attention. “Three feet of hair? You cut off that much each year?”
She sighed, and flipped the braid back over her shoulder, so that it pooled on the grass when she leaned back on her hands and gazed at the lake. “See what I mean about ‘fastest-growing’? It’s a pain.”
“It’s lovely.” It was more than lovely. “And different.”
A snort. “It’s blonde. There’s nothing special about it. You’re blonde.”
“I mean, different from your parents’. Both of my parents were blonde, because where I come from, we have a surfeit of light hair, light eyes. But your parents are both so dark.”
Zelle shrugged. “Mother is actually my stepmother. She married Papa when I was about two. I just assumed that Papa’s first wife was blonde.”
There wasn’t anything to say except, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, but not necessary. I have no memories of her—I don’t even know her name. Papa and Mother never speak of her, or their pasts.” He could see her roll her eyes slightly. “They’re ridiculously in love. It’s nauseating, sometimes.”
Dmitri smiled, to see her acceptance of something so unusual. “My parents were a love-match too.” Mama had died before the Emancipation, which had probably been best, for everyone. “They were very lucky. It is a rare thing.”
“Rare?”
“You don’t think so?”
She shrugged again, and then sent a glance at him from under pale lashes that had him sitting up straighter. “I’ve seen plenty of love matches here in Everland. I don’t think it’s so
“I…do?”
“Another kiss, I think.”
“ I should apologize to you ?”
His smile was positively naughty. “Fine, then. I will apologize to you.” His gaze fastened on her pink lips. “After,” he murmured absent-mindedly.
“After wh—?“
And then, with a tug, she was his.
Her lips weren’t strawberry-flavored this time; they tasted better. He wanted to lose himself in her, but knew that he couldn’t afford to. Knew that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
So he released her, after not nearly long enough. He was beginning to suspect that a lifetime wouldn’t be enough time to enjoy her. When she sat back, her eyes were glazed and her lips seemed redder, plumper. He’d done that to her, and knew that his arrogant smile was probably entirely inappropriate.
“I’m sorry.” Her first words threw him out of his gloat, especially when he’d been expecting to apologize to her .
“What?”
“I’m sorry that you felt used when I kissed you at the Gingerbread House.”
Carefully he began to unwrap her braid. “I am not sorry for kissing you, then or now.”
And that’s when she smiled, and he knew she’d been teasing, the same as him. “Me neither.”
When she looked at him like that— bozhe moy !— he wanted, needed to kiss her again. So he did what any sane, sensible man deeply attracted to a woman he found himself with under a secluded tree would do. He changed the subject.
“I think I like you better with your hair down.”
She sniffed and pulled the braid out of his hand. But she was smiling when she said. “Yes, I can see why you might think that. Most of the time it’s a pain, though.”
Zelle seemed willing to change the subject, so Dmitri accepted the opening, leaning back on his elbows, careful to hide a part of his anatomy that would certainly prove him a fool for not kissing her again. He wondered how improper it would be if he removed his jacket. Wondered if he cared. “So why don’t you cut it? Not that I’m advising it, of course. It is handy.”
She actually stuck her tongue out at him, as if they were playing. The sight did nothing to make him feel playful, though. “You think that I haven’t? I cut it once a year, on my birthday. It’s the fastest-growing hair I’ve ever seen.”
“When is your birthday?”
“Next month. The first. I’ll cut off at least three feet, I think.”
That got his attention. “Three feet of hair? You cut off that much each year?”
She sighed, and flipped the braid back over her shoulder, so that it pooled on the grass when she leaned back on her hands and gazed at the lake. “See what I mean about ‘fastest-growing’? It’s a pain.”
“It’s lovely.” It was more than lovely. “And different.”
A snort. “It’s blonde. There’s nothing special about it. You’re blonde.”
“I mean, different from your parents’. Both of my parents were blonde, because where I come from, we have a surfeit of light hair, light eyes. But your parents are both so dark.”
Zelle shrugged. “Mother is actually my stepmother. She married Papa when I was about two. I just assumed that Papa’s first wife was blonde.”
There wasn’t anything to say except, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, but not necessary. I have no memories of her—I don’t even know her name. Papa and Mother never speak of her, or their pasts.” He could see her roll her eyes slightly. “They’re ridiculously in love. It’s nauseating, sometimes.”
Dmitri smiled, to see her acceptance of something so unusual. “My parents were a love-match too.” Mama had died before the Emancipation, which had probably been best, for everyone. “They were very lucky. It is a rare thing.”
“Rare?”
“You don’t think so?”
She shrugged again, and then sent a glance at him from under pale lashes that had him sitting up straighter. “I’ve seen plenty of love matches here in Everland. I don’t think it’s so