of them as ours?”
“Of course I think of them as ours. They have our initials on them and everythin’,” he said tapping the handle of the revolver with the engraved S. “I’d say that’s pretty official. Don’t you think?”
“I’ll agree with you on that one.”
“Do you like that, I--ah, think of them as ours?” He asked, his voice soft. The change in tone pulled at her. It was tender and searching, so achingly new and full of the fright Delilah had assured her was entirely normal.
She cleared her throat and pushed forward. She had come this far and could manage to continue on. August was worth it, they were worth it.
“I do,” she told him and bit her lip, and continued on, “I’ve always thought of them as ours.”
His hand found hers and she swayed in her boots at the touch, the warmth of him drew her close like a moth to a flame. “That makes me happy, honey. Real happy. Only one thing that could make me happier.”
“What’s what?” Her breath was coming faster now, the rise and fall of her chest forcing her breasts to graze his bicep ever so slightly, the teasing touch of it nearly setting her aflame but she managed to stay whole, if only just.
“That someday, these guns won’t be the only thing you think of as ours.”
Her eyes widened and her feet faltered though the misstep only worked to thrust her forward, the movement causing August to reach for her, his arm catching her around her waist and steadying her against him.
“Yes, Seylah May?” His eyes dropped to her mouth and the span of another shared heart beat passed between them.
“Nothing,” Seylah whispered. Though the words she wanted to speak were caught in her throat her hand reached up, tentatively, until she was cupping his jaw. She nibbled her lip, watching the storm of emotions that seemed at war in August’s eyes. He was wrestling with something, back and forth like a pendulum. He wanted to touch her, like she was touching him, she knew it but for some reason he was holding himself back from doing so.
“August,” she tried. If he knew how much she wanted him, that she desired his touch, ached for it. Perhaps then the pendulum would swing in the direction she desperately wished for, and he would close the few inches that separated them. She was leaning against the tabletop with the span of it against her back and August in front of her. There was precious little room for her to move, though she could think of no other place she wished to be than exactly as she was.
“You can touch me,” she told him, a note of neediness she had never let slip into her voice said everything she hadn’t voiced. It was there if only he chose to listen. She wanted him to touch her, willed it more than anything else at that moment, had dreamed of it for as long as she understood what it was that she wanted.
“Honey.”
That one word that filled the air with such potential, so much confusion for Seylah before she allowed what she wanted to root down and make a home was now a source of excitement that set her to trembling with want. Seylah felt the air leave her lungs when the moment his decision was made registered. August Leclaire had made up his mind, it was written all over him, plain as day, easily seen in his eyes.
He reached for her, the pads of his thumbs running along the line of her jaw before moving up to brush against her ears as the man cradled her face in his hands.
“Honey, come here,” he murmured, stepping into the space between them and leaning down until his mouth was pressing against hers.
She had waited years for this kiss. Written it off as impossible, the stuff of fanciful girlish daydreams, but it was here and it was as beautiful as she had always imagined.
August kissed her gently, tentatively, as if he were acquainting himself with a landscape at twilight. He moved closer still, slanting his mouth to herself and Seylah parted her lips eagerly with a moan when she felt him deepening the kiss. The answering groan her invitation for more elicited set her into motion and she wrapped her arms around his neck eager for more, to feel the muscle of August against her more, in as many places as she was able to manage. She kissed him hungrily.