Turning toward me, he sweeps his eyes up and down, deliberately resting on the collar of my nightgown. All of my nightgowns are modest, but he makes me feel as though I’m wearing nothing. Beneath this, I’m not.
His eyes lift to mine. Sharp and hot. “I wanted to speak with you about the picnic.”
“What about it? Do you take issue with the final five bachelors?”
“I’ve taken issue with all of the bachelors,” Livingston says without missing a beat. “No, I wanted to talk about your conversation with Taylor. I believe in positive affirmations?” he says, doing his best imitation of my voice.
“What is wrong with positive affirmations?”
“Nothin’. But you wouldn’t recognize positive if it was directly in front of you. Now negative is a different conversation.”
I grin. “Good. Because I’m about to give you a handful of them.”
“There she is,” Livingston murmurs and takes a step closer.
Today didn’t go quite as planned. I wasn’t on my best behavior. My temper reared its ugly head, I spoke out of turn, and thought about Livingston and our kiss more times than I can count. I don’t mind that Livingston is deliberately goading me. I want to spar with someone. That my adversary is the very person I can’t stop thinking about makes it all the better.
“There she is? I’ve gone nowhere. But you certainly did when I wanted to discuss our kiss.”
Livingston spreads his arms wide. “Well, here I am now.”
“How convenient for you. What if I didn’t want to discuss it anymore?”
“How convenient for you,” he retorts with a half-smirk.
“I wanted to make certain that the kiss wouldn’t affect our friendship.”
“It won’t,” Livingston answers at once. “The kiss was a spur-of-the-moment thing and won’t happen again.”
Rapidly, I nod. I should be relieved, right? It’s in both of our best interest that the kiss was a one-time mistake. So why do I feel disappointed? “Good, good.”
Livingston quirks a brow. “Is that all you wish to discuss?”
“Yes.”
No. I had many, many questions I wished to talk over with him. But the sooner he left the room, the better.
The two of us are silent. Livingston rocks back on his heels, then lifts his gaze to mine. “But it certainly was memorable, wasn’t it?”
It was all I could think about. “It was good,” I reply.
Livingston’s eyes widen and then immediately narrow. “Good? Just good?”
“Contrary to what you might believe, I don’t make it a habit of kissin’ the bachelors. My area of expertise doesn’t lie in the art of kissin’.”
“Whether experienced or not is irrelevant. A memorable kiss is felt and never forced.”
I didn’t need him to tell me that. I felt every inch of that kiss in the ballroom from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes and all the way to my soul. But I shrug a shoulder. “If you say so.”
“You truly believe it was simply good?”
The sharpness of Livingston’s words has me raising both brows. “Are you upset? I didn’t say it was bad. I just—”
Abruptly, my words are cut off as Livingston lunges for me. His hands curl around my upper arms. He stares at me with a baffled expression in his eyes, and before I can ask what’s wrong, his lips meet mine.
The kiss is urgent and picks up where the last left off.
He has been thinking about this, too.
I make a sound from the back of my throat. Something close to approval. My fingers curl around his biceps.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and his grip on me tightens the way it did in the ballroom.
The two of us walk backward. I feel the footboard touch the back of my legs but only for a moment. I leave my frustration from today on the floor as my body travels up the bed. Livingston’s lips never leave mine as he follows. When my head touches the pillows, my lips part, giving Livingston the entrance he’s been seeking. He groans. It’s a sound that vibrates through me and brings me a shiver of warmth. His lower body sinks into me, and I feel the hard length of him against my thigh. My fingers curl around his bicep.
My hands remain at my sides; I’m afraid to touch him. I’m afraid that once I start, I will not stop. My emotions are already frazzled tonight. If our first kiss has shown us anything, it’s that the two of us cannot be trusted alone.
I find the strength to push back, my palm resting against Livingston’s chest. His eyes are half-mast as he gives me a dazed expression. I try to take a deep breath, but I can feel him, all of him, against my leg. I’ve never been this close to a man before, but I’m not scared.
Because every rapid beat of my heart moves in tandem with three simple words: you are alive. You are alive.
I search for that in everything I do. In order to survive, pain makes you numb to the world. But the glorious, heart-racing awareness and excitement coursing through me is unlike anything else. I can feel every touch and the abrasion of our clothing every time our entwined limbs move. The clean scent of him wraps around me, making me hold him tighter until it becomes too much.
“What are we precisely doin’?” I breathe.
“Well, days ago, we kissed. And then Serene interrupted, so we stopped. And now I am resumin’ the kiss to show you it was more than just good. Si je puis?”
This is my chance to say no. This is my chance to tell him he needs to leave and that I’m not one of his many paramours. I do none of that, though. Instead, I curl my hands around his shirt, pulling him closer.
“May I resume?” he asks against my lips.
With my eyes closed, I nod.
In the privacy of my room, where no one can find us, Livingston gives me everything. I taste war on his lips and pain on his tongue. I’m no match for him, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to heal him. I’ve always craved a challenge.
His hands move to the buttons of my nightgown. The first button is open as my eyes flash open.
He looks at me from beneath his lashes, his hazel eyes nearly glowing. “Do you want me to stop?”
I don’t answer. Instead, my eyes rove over his face. In the dim lighting, it’s hard to see every perfect detail of him.
“Rainey?” he urges.
My eyes meet his. For once, he looks uncertain of himself and desperate for my answer. “No,” I say.
“Are you positive?” One button slides free, then another. “Because I’ll only say this once. A kiss is a kiss, but a touch can break you.”
I stretch beneath him, languishing in his words. I love the shiver of anticipation they give me even when I know they shouldn’t. “You can’t break me.”
It’s not a challenge but a mere fact. I won’t let him break me. I won’t be like all the other ladies who fall for him.
Livingston still doesn’t seem convinced. “I won’t be the man standin’ on the front porch waitin’ for you,” he warns. Perhaps, this is his final attempt to dissuade me.
But after each kiss we have, I crave another and then another. I want them to last longer than the last. And now I have a new thought: what else can he show me?
“Oh, Livingston, I won’t be the woman askin’ you to stay.”