Page 17 of The Gilded Lady (The Gilded West #3)

Chapter Nine

T he next morning Glory sat at her dressing table, her lips still tingling from the last night’s kiss.

She ran a fingertip over her bottom lip, remembering the soft heat of his mouth and how his tongue had felt against hers.

A dart of electricity sparked down to her belly, settling there with a slow burn.

A blush stained her cheeks in the mirror and she couldn’t stop the ridiculous smile that curved her lips.

Zane Pierce was a much better kisser than she’d assumed he would be.

His size suggested brute strength and a lack of finesse, but he’d been surprisingly gentle and attentive.

Over the years she’d had men steal kisses from her before.

It was like a strange badge of honor with some of them, and she knew about that ridiculous wager in that betting book across town.

Since that had come up a year or so ago, the men had progressed from stolen kisses to flirting conversation meant to somehow sweep her off her feet.

None of them ever swept her off her feet.

Not one in the entire twelve years she’d been here.

But last night Zane had made her knees go weak.

Had she not been pressed against the wall, she was certain that she would’ve fallen.

The thing was, he’d made her weak in the knees before he’d even kissed her.

It had started when he’d given her that heavy-lidded look of his that meant he was thinking naughty things.

The final blow had come, however, when he’d asked for her permission.

None of the men had ever asked permission.

Not one. Despite the fact that she wasn’t selling herself every night, they walked into the house as if she owed them whatever they demanded.

More than once Able had been forced to show a man out because he wasn’t happy she wouldn’t take him upstairs.

Zane had looked as if he expected her to turn him down.

She knew that she probably shouldn’t have, but when he’d allowed her to take the lead, she’d been unable to refuse them what they both wanted.

How much harm could one little kiss cause anyway?

A crinkling of paper and a flash of white caught her attention.

A folded piece of paper slid nearly soundlessly across the hardwood floor of her bedchamber.

The distinct thump of Zane’s boots moving away from the door had her heart beating in her throat.

On quiet feet because she wanted to keep the moment of discovery to herself, she walked over and picked up the paper before returning to her stool.

She expected to open it to find a note and listened for the front door of her suite, imagining that he was simply telling her he was leaving for the morning.

But when she opened it, she got a surprise.

A beautiful rose in full bloom stared back at her.

Each petal was artfully sketched in dramatic detail.

It was breathtaking. She ran her fingertips over the graphite lines, picturing him sitting out on her sofa drawing them for her.

His fingertips must have traced over the lines as hers were doing now.

Had he realized how she loved roses? Had he hoped to make her smile?

Or perhaps the drawing had been a casual amusement.

Did it mean anything to him or had it simply been a pleasant way to pass the time?

Tucking the corners of the drawing into the frame of her mirror, she smiled again at her reflection.

The woman smiling back at her was almost unrecognizable.

It was the same face with the same red hair that stared back at her every morning.

The same smile that she’d learned long ago to keep plastered on her face was there, but this morning something was different.

The eyes were different. They were smiling in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time.

It was silly to think that it was all because of Zane, but it had to be him.

He was the only thing that had changed. He was reminding her of what it meant to enjoy the little things.

A smile, a drawing…a kiss.

Butterflies swarmed in her belly as she remembered that kiss all over again.

If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the soft pressure of his lips on hers.

She’d never enjoyed a kiss before, albeit she’d never been kissed by someone she wanted to kiss.

Would it be possible for her to enjoy more with him?

She shook her head, but the idea of more swirled around in there anyway, seeming like it could be a possibility.

Maybe, though almost definitely not. It was an insane idea.

They were too different. She was too damaged.

He was a rambling type of man who would never be happy here for long.

She knew all the reasons it wouldn’t work, but those reasons did nothing to stop the flare of ridiculous hope that flickered to life inside her.

Suddenly anxious to see him again, she rushed through the rest of her morning ablutions.

Her stomach tilted and whirled as she imagined what she might say to him or what he might say to her.

The kiss didn’t have to change anything, but she knew that it had because every time she looked at him now she’d remember that it had happened.

She’d remember how good it felt to be the center of his world for those few slow-moving seconds.

She’d remember how she’d liked it. She’d know how very much she wanted to repeat it.

She chose to forget the feeling of panic that had bubbled up inside her and made her run from him. It wasn’t his fault she was so anxious with men. In fact, she rather thought that had he been her first, the experience would be nothing but delicious fun.

Smoothing a hand over her belly to calm the nerves that had started up at the prospect of seeing him, she opened her door and stepped out into the parlor of her suite.

He’d been sitting on the sofa but stood when he saw her.

He watched her with an expectant look on his face as if he’d been just as anxious to see her as she’d been to see him.

For a moment, they simply stood watching each other.

“Thank you for the rose,” she said, breaking the charged silence.

His shoulders seemed to relax as he took a cautious step toward her followed by another, but his expression was neutral. He wore the same clothes from last night, and she realized how much of his own comfort he was sacrificing to stay with her every night.

“I’m glad you like it.” He took in a breath, his jaw tightening. “I wanted to apologize.”

Her breath caught in her throat. He’d no doubt seen her fear when she’d run, but she didn’t want him to apologize for kissing her.

Not when he’d asked her and she’d said yes.

Not when she’d kissed him back and for one brief moment it had been perfect.

If he apologized, then it could take it all away.

It would mean he was sorry that it had happened and she didn’t want that.

She wanted to be normal. She wasn’t, but she wanted to be and she didn’t need one more reminder that she wasn’t.

And she shouldn’t expect him to understand that.

She knew that she was being incredibly unfair to him, but her hands tightened into tense fists at her sides and she prayed that everything she was feeling wasn’t reflected on her face.

Realizing that she was ranting in her own mind, she made her face very still and asked, “For what?”

“Because we argued.” He tipped his head down to look at her as he came to a stop in front of her. “And because I called you stubborn.”

The relief that swept through her nearly leveled her.

She wanted to ask him what he’d thought of the kiss, but she wasn’t brave enough to bring it up.

She’d faced down men trying to force her to sell her business to them without flinching, but she couldn’t bring up a kiss to Zane.

Instead, she grinned and said, “It’s fine.

” Making a show of looking around to check that no one overheard, she added in a near whisper, “Besides, I am a little stubborn.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smirk.

His eyes somehow deepened, becoming so dark they were nearly black.

When his gaze flicked to her mouth, she knew that he was reliving the kiss.

“Then I don’t need to apologize for…?” He allowed the question to trail off into the heavy but not uncomfortable silence between them.

She shook her head and that acknowledgment made the fire that had been temporarily banked flare to life.

His heated gaze met hers and she swallowed past the need to touch him, to feel his solid presence beneath her palms, to touch her mouth to his and relive the wonderful magic he’d stoked to life within her.

“You ran away.” It wasn’t a question, but an open statement. He wanted her to fill in the blanks, and she found herself doing that before she’d even realized it.

“I did.” She nodded, chewing her bottom lip because she was unreasonably nervous. “I feel quite ashamed about that if you want to know the truth.”

“Don’t feel ashamed.” He reached out as if he might hold her hand, but he stopped at the last second.

Instead of holding it, he ran his knuckles over the back of her hand, an almost touch that seemed far more poignant than it should.

Tiny prickles of pleasure coursed over her hand, warming her palm.

Her eyes glued to that point of contact, she said, “There are things that have happened…” No, she wouldn’t go into the past now.

It would only tarnish what she knew would live in her memory as a glorious moment.

His eyes were warm and soft when she met his gaze.

“Please just know that my running had nothing to do with you. What we did was lovely.”