warmth, overwhelming. It rushed back to her from the greenhouse, the feel of him around her. Of music through glass and the beat of his heart against her ear. Of swaying so slowly, it was hardly a dance anymore.
“The greenhouse,” she began, sensing the memories playing behind his eyes as well. The coil inside her wrung tighter. “How long did that all take you?”
“Just a few special orders and some maneuvering of shipments. Nothing, really.” He scratched the back of his head, looking down at his feet. “It wasn’t quite finished. You found it much earlier than planned.”
Her heart started. “What was the plan?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It matters.” She swallowed, all of it too much. “Humor me.”
Weeks ago, he would’ve turned right to his door with a terse goodnight. Now, he blew out a sigh, before rolling back his shoulders as if he had nothing to lose. “You’d win the show first,” he stated. “Despite the other judges’ attempts to low score your act, the audience loves you. You’d win by a landslide. Everyone would reconvene at the Prima to celebrate. Champagne and flowers, and the fakest of smiles from everyone who doubted you. You’d have fun rubbing it in their faces for a smug amount of time.” He snorted and went on, “Next, you, me, and Aaros would duck into the Conquerors’ tents for a far better party. Better music, to be sure. I’d eventually invent some excuse for us to visit the Ranza Estate, one last time. Then I’d—”
Kallia kissed him, then. A soft, brief press.
Thank you.
It yanked apart everything inside her. Her skin over his, the warmth of him pressed to her, chest against chest.
She pulled back before he could respond.
“I’m sorry.” Her cheeks flushed, everything inside her on fire. Demarco said nothing. His face, stone once more.
“I didn’t…” She swallowed, feeling stupid—so stupid. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
He just stared. In agreement. In shock. Kallia couldn’t tell, only waited for him to step back and pretend it hadn’t happened. Only it had, and her heart had never thrashed so violently in her chest with hunger. This strange thing with claws, it had been pricking at her day by day. Wanting this, for much longer than she even realized.
“Sorry,” she whispered, and the word cracked right between her ribs. She felt foolish, felt too much. “I’m—”
“Stop saying that.”
Kallia’s brow furrowed at his gruff tone, the way he caught her face between his hands.
He took a moment to look at her. Just look. And she caught something in the dark of his eyes—the softest certainty—before he finally pulled her to him, and kissed her.
She froze. Her mind, blank. But the slowness melted as she breathed into another kiss. Then another, and another, following the rhythm he set. The music between them.
Nothing in the kiss tasted of regret.
As his fingers slid through her hair, his lips urging hers to open, she tasted want. Need. It answered hers in such a wave, that she locked her hands behind his neck to steady herself.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
This can’t be happening.
Her pulse hammered as he kept going. Pressing impatient kisses to her skin, running hands down her back, memorizing her. A noise rumbled deep within his chest as he kissed down her neck, every inch of her searing. A smile cut across her face, and she was relieved how distracted he was to see it. “I thought it was only me.”
“Should I have gotten you something bigger than a greenhouse?”
Her whole body shook under a laugh as she watched the way her arms twined around his neck. The impossibility of it. “I just … I wasn’t sure.”
“I haven’t been sure about anything in a while.” Demarco’s eyes finally met hers, heavy and half-lidded, as though he were dreaming. “You’ve been in my head since the moment you first walked on stage.”
She remembered that day well. She’d barely noticed he was even there until he spoke. He would’ve vanished from her periphery altogether had he not become such a thorn, always catching at her. Pulling on the thread between them day by day, slow and gradual.
“I can’t believe this.” Slowly, he drew back, scanning her face. Kallia almost laughed at his hair, a wreck. His eyes, ruined. “Should we talk or…?”
Already, he wanted to analyze this. This thing she hadn’t even wanted, until it showed itself in the dark.
In answer, Kallia pulled him to her. Breath held, lips barely meeting—before the lights around them dimmed for a brief, sharp