First Kiss Friday – A Knight to Remember by Catherine Kean

Today’s First Kiss Friday featured guest is Catherine Kean, author of medieval romance A Knight to Remember included in the Enchanted by an Emerald boxed set.  Welcome back Catherine!  Here’s the first kiss between Lady Aislinn Locksmeade and Hugh Brigonne.

Aislinn’s hair was like sleek, shimmering silk under his chin. He’d known ’twould be so from the moment he’d first wakened and seen her standing at the table, awash in sunlight. He’d confirmed it when he’d captured the glossy end of her braid. Closing his eyes, he savored again the softness of her tresses against his skin and drew in a breath sweetened with her rose and almond oil fragrance. He silently groaned with the pleasure.

While he’d lain bound to the bed, he’d yearned to be this close—near enough to touch, smell, and taste this woman who intrigued him far more than he’d ever anticipated. He’d longed to have his hands free to plunge into her loosened hair, to hold her head steady, to devour her mouth with kisses that would make her sigh, moan, and mayhap even weep. He couldn’t remember what kind of lover he’d been, but didn’t doubt he had the skills to thoroughly pleasure a woman.

He shuddered as her hands shifted on his chest, a tentative brush of her fingertips across skin acutely aware of her every movement and quivering breath. Just that slight shift in position made the heat in his body burn brighter, hotter.

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

“For the moment,” he answered softly. He prayed she didn’t move her hands lower. ’Twould not be wise. Parts of his body were far too eager for her touch.

“Are you still dizzy?” She shivered, her rush of breath tickling his sensitized skin. “Should I—?”

“You have already done enough.”

She was silent a moment, as though pondering his reply. She didn’t try to push him away, though, or duck beneath his outstretched arms. From what he was sensing, she didn’t want to run at all. She, too, seemed to be waiting.

Did she want him to kiss her? What would she do if he did?

He lifted one of his hands from the stone wall, leaving the other to support himself, for his legs weren’t entirely steady. His fingers skimmed her shoulder, trailed across the embroidered pattern on her gown, and she made a tiny sound in her throat—not quite a moan of encouragement, but not a protest, either. His fingers slid higher, up the softness of her throat, up to her chin. With gentle fingers, he nudged her face up.

Their gazes met. Her lashes flickered, veiling the glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. That hint of vulnerability, though, made his heart twist in his chest.

He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted only to kiss her witless.

Words of reassurance formed on his tongue. Yet, he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to feel, to taste, to tempt… He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

A muffled sound broke from her, a sound of astonishment and pleasure. He swept his lips gently over hers, coaxing, savoring. Taste me, his mouth told her. Trust me.

A cry warbled from her lips, and then her mouth moved under his. She kissed him back, matching the ravenous rhythm he set. Faster. Faster still. Her hungry mouth glided against his as though they were meant to be together. As though they’d kissed before. As though they’d loved each other before.

And yet, she’d said they weren’t lovers or married.

Her fingers on his chest curled inward. Her tongue slid past his lips and brushed his. Ah, God. He shuddered at the ensuing flare of heat, at his desire that was now all-consuming. He deepened their kisses, showing her the fierceness of his need for her, and she sighed against his mouth.

One more kiss, and he drew back, looking down at her upturned face. Her eyes were closed. Slowly, her lashes lifted. She looked slightly dazed, her cheeks pink.

They weren’t lovers or married. So what was she to him?

He was loath to break the intimacy between them, but he had to know.

His thumb brushed her cheek. “Tell me something,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Why does kissing you feel so…right?”

Anguish filled her gaze. He sensed her withdrawing from him, pulling her emotions in tight.

“Please,” he murmured. “Tell me.”

“One day, you will remember.”