A Midsummer Night's Fling

Chapter Two

I beheld his face. His lips were curled slightly in a smile, and I traced my own distractedly. They looked perfect, his bottom lip slightly fuller than the top, and I wondered what it would be like to feel them against my ear whispering sweet nothings.

Finally, I met his contemplative stare, and the sensation of drowning almost consumed me. In the shade of the most pure blue, his eyes spoke so much. There was an Otherworldliness in them, but what captured me was the look of fascination and longing. I wasn't prepared to see such strength and passion, and I realized I'd stopped breathing. Forcing myself to break his hold over me, I glanced down at the ground and noticed the water lapping at my feet.

"I didn't mean to startle you."

His voice. It was like nothing I'd ever heard before, as though an angel had floated down from the sky and began singing the holiest of melodies. It held richness in its tone, and I could feel the seductive influence already beginning to tug at my heart strings.

It was in that moment I realized the truthfullness of the Fae stories and the power they had to enchant humans. Everything about this male lured me in and encouraged wild abandonment. I wanted to fall to the floor and worship him—simply from hearing him speak.

Heaven help me.

"You didn't. I . . ." For the first time in my life I was speechless, something my Papa thought could never happen. He stepped completely out of the tree line and—as the sun fully illuminated him—I could feel myself faltering. He was beyond my wildest dreams, and all I could do was stare silently as he approached.

Likewise, he examined me with deliberate contemplation. One second he was looking into my eyes, then my lips, then travelling down my neckline before he paused. I knew I needed to retrieve my gown, but my feet were rooted. I couldn't move even if the hounds of Hell were relentlessly pursuing me.

The stranger stopped just out of arm's reach. He licked his lips softly, and I found myself leaning forward slightly as if to taste them also. The compulsion was the strangest feeling, but I didn't fight it. I was too intrigued.

Neither of us said anything as tension filled the air. My body sensed a pull toward him as if the only place it belonged was beside him—against him. I shook my head and tried to clear my thoughts. The action helped momentarily, but one more look into his eyes and the connection snapped back into place.

"My name is Aithne," I whispered.

"Mine is Hadrian." He raised his hand and tentatively stroked the side of my cheek. I gasped as his touch left a trail of pleasure in its wake. "I have wanted to do that for a very long time."

I couldn't stop the shiver or the way my body leaned into his caress. Somewhere in the back of my mind something screamed of propriety and that I shouldn't allow such intimacy from a stranger. I closed my eyes, ignoring the voice, and prayed he would continue.

Placing one of his fingers under my chin, Hadrian lifted my face toward him. His gaze was magnetic, and I was at his complete mercy. My own hands were idle and the need to explore became a constant temptation. But he held me captive and all I could do was wait for his lead.

His head inched closer.

"I wonder what you taste like, sweet Aithne. That question has tortured me."

A butterfly commotion rose in my stomach as the flittering turned my insides into a riot of nerves. He was going to give me my first-ever kiss. My hands rested on my stomach fortifying my resolve as his hands gripped the side of my arms. His thumbs moved in soft circles and caused a faintness to come over me.

Hadrian was so close, his breath fanning lightly over my skin. I watched his descending mouth—his lips. I was a storm of emotions—sensations—as the anticipation grew.