Page 27 of Dark Rebel’s Reckoning (The Children Of The Gods #93)

27

KYRA

" T hank you," Kyra said quietly. "Did you do it for me?"

He didn't move, resting his cheek on her palm. "I just wanted to look good for you. I didn't expect you to touch me."

Max's pupils were dilated, and his grip on Kyra's hand was tight but not painful.

For a big man like him, Max was surprisingly gentle and very aware that he could easily become intimidating if he didn't keep his own desires under tight control.

He was putting himself at her service, allowing her complete control over the situation, and that not only touched her heart but also sent a new wave of desire through her, with unexpected heat pooling low in her belly.

God, she hadn't felt anything like that before, and it was intoxicating.

It made her feel alive.

"I wish…" she started and didn't continue because she wasn't sure what she wished for.

Looking less haggard and wearing something that actually fit her? Being less broken and more forward with her newly discovered affections?

"What do you wish for?" Max asked.

"I don't know. Maybe for us to meet under different circumstances—without the taint of my past. I wish I could be fresh and naive and excited like a young girl spending her first evening alone with a boy."

He lifted his head from her palm. "We can pretend that if you wish." There was mischief in his eyes but also longing and desire, which elicited a corresponding reaction from her.

She chuckled. "I don't even know what a young, inexperienced girl would act like."

He shrugged. "And I can hardly remember being a boy, but we can just make it be whatever we want. We can start with a little kiss."

"I'd like that," she said softly, leaning toward him before she'd consciously decided to move.

Max moved with deliberate slowness, telegraphing his intentions as he closed the distance between them. Placing a hand on her cheek, he kept his eyes on hers until her lids fluttered closed.

The first brush of his lips against hers was feather-light, almost tentative. Just the barest contact, yet it sent a cascade of sensations through her body. Her pendant pulsed against her skin, warm and happy, as if it was responding to the connection and liking it as much as she did.

Max drew back a little, his eyes searching hers. "Okay?"

In answer, Kyra leaned forward again, pressing her lips more firmly to his. This time, the kiss deepened naturally, his mouth moving against hers with gentle purpose. His hand slid from her cheek to cup the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair.

The pendant's warmth spread through her chest, radiating outward until her entire body felt suffused with heat. Every nerve ending seemed to awaken, responding to his touch with an intensity that was almost overwhelming after so long of feeling nothing.

When they finally parted, Kyra was breathless, and her heart was pounding as if she'd run a great distance. "That was…nice."

"Yeah," Max agreed, his own breathing slightly uneven. "It was."

They stared at each other for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them. Then Max smiled, the expression lighting up his entire face.

"What?" Kyra asked.

"You're blushing," he said, sounding inordinately pleased with the observation.

Kyra raised a hand to her cheeks, surprised to find them warm to the touch. "I am. I don't think I've ever blushed before."

"Of course not." He assumed a stern expression. "A rebel leader cannot blush. She needs to be fierce at all times."

"That's right," she picked up on his teasing tone. "What kind of leader would I be if I blushed whenever a handsome guy decided to kiss me?"

Max shook his head vigorously. "Not any handsome guy. Just me."

"Yes, Max. Just you."

She doubted anyone else would have made her feel so safe, so normal. He'd made her feel like a woman rather than a survivor or even a warrior. He'd helped her relearn how to feel desire and joy in a simple physical connection.

"Thank you." He dipped his head. "I'm not the sharing kind, and I want this beautiful blush to be mine and mine alone."

She sobered. "For how long?"

He seemed confused by her question. "What do you mean? It's forever."

The guy was sweet, but he was getting carried away by the wings of romance. In real life, things didn't start with a little kiss and end up in eternal love.

"We are not truelove mates, Max. We might be, but we are not there yet. What I meant was that if you expect me to reserve my blush just for you, I expect the same in return, at least until we find out where this is going."

He seemed offended by her suggestion. "I'm yours, Kyra, for as long as you will have me, and I hope it's forever, but if it's not, then until you tell me to get lost."

She swallowed. Even thinking of such an eventuality was difficult, and that was absurd given that they weren't even a couple yet.

"Let's take it one day at a time," she murmured.

"I get it." He leaned over, stopping a fraction of an inch away from her mouth. "You want to take it slow. Want to try another kiss? That one was just the appetizer."

"Yes," she said. "I do."

As their mouths fused, Max snaked his arm under her bottom and lifted her onto his lap, but just as his tongue was about to breach the seal of her lips, the penthouse front door opened, and the two of them jumped apart like a couple of teenagers caught red-handed, doing something they were not supposed to.

"Sorry to interrupt." Fenella walked in and beelined for the kitchen. "I got hungry and came for the leftovers."