who you love?” His mocking tone makes me fist my hands. Unfortunately, he’s holding on to them. He knows he’s just triggered a reaction. “Ever ask him out? Try to get to know him? Maybe, I don’t know—ask his goddamn name?”
“I was waiting for him to ask me,” I say in an angry whisper.
“Yes, well, I asked you. I asked.”
I finally jerk my gaze up to his, but he’s looking out at the crowd now, scowling. God, we’re doing a horrible job at pretending to be in love. I know we’ll get in trouble for this. We’re ruining the parade for all the guests, but I can’t seem to force myself to get it together. I want to know what he means.
We continue down the road, nearing Castle Drive. In a moment, we’ll pass under the arch of red roses. That’s our cue to kiss. My heart starts to pound hard against my lace bodice. I’m sure he can feel my palms sweating against his.
“You swore you’d give me a clean slate,” he says, sounding defeated, “but you haven’t. You’re still scared of getting hurt again.”
“Oh come on.”
I sound incredulous and finally, he turns his head all the way toward me. For the first time since the start of the parade, we’re looking into each other’s eyes. It feels like he’s gripping me by the back of my neck, keeping my attention on him. It’s visceral, this connection between us.
He bends low, releasing my hands so he can wrap his arms around my waist and tug me close. My hands hit his hard chest and, out of focus, in the background, I spy a thousand blood red roses.
“It’s true, Whitney. You’re scared of real pain,” he whispers down at me, softly now that his attention is on my lips. “The burning kind. The lie awake and worry kind. The can’t eat, can’t think, no life without you in it…kind.”
And then he leans down and kisses me.
Fireworks explode. Literally. Over our heads, a million rainbow sparks crackle across the sky as his lips possess mine.
He kisses me with reckless abandon, like we might never get another chance, like I might come to my senses and push him away at any moment. This, his kiss tells me, this is what I’ve been waiting for—you going soft and sweet in my arms.
On our script it simply read Princess Elena and His Royal Highness “share a kiss”, and since we never actually rehearsed it, there’s no way to know exactly what that meant. Still, if I had to guess, I assume it was intended to be a quick, modest peck.
What we’re doing is the exact opposite. It’s heated and crazed, a kiss meant to take place behind locked doors, tying a knot around two hearts. He’s relentless. Hungry. My hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck. He groans as my palms touch his heated skin. He follows suit, moving to cradle my chin so he can tilt my head back and deepen the kiss even more. My skin comes alive under his touch.
His tongue touches mine and my head spins.
I’m sure tiny children are standing in the front row, slack-jawed and worried.
“He’s not…hurting her, is he, Mommy?”
One of us needs to stop this, but he’s not letting me go, and I refuse to step away. Now that I’m here, pressed against him, it’s like I can’t get close enough. I want to rip his jacket open and step inside of it, feel his reassuring strength.
There is no way on earth I’ll ever have a first kiss that tops this one, and that’s good considering how much trouble we’ll be in when this is all over.
Derek’s the one to eventually break it off. He pulls back just enough to let his forehead touch mine and we stay like that through the rest of the parade, our hearts beating wildly, our breaths heavy. We refuse to separate even with the roar of the theme park around us.
My lips are swollen and parted as I try to grasp for a thread of common sense to take me back ten minutes in time. Before we kissed. Before I realized all my imaginings of what his kiss would be like were nothing compared to the real thing. I find no thread. None at all. By staying here, pressed against him, I’m admitting defeat, admitting my fear. I’ve been keeping myself away from him as a way to protect my heart. I’m not confident I can survive