TimeLess (Time Tells, #2) (ON-GOING)

Chapter Thirteen

"Alanna."

The voice is low, familiar, intimate. It barely rouses me. If anything it lulls me further into sleep.

A soft brush against my cheek. I turn into the caress. I whisper against my lips and my breath changes. My eyes open.

The room is dark, but I see slivers of light creeping in past the curtains. I can just about see my husband's features in the dark.

I snuggle further into bed, making a soft noise.

His thumb caresses my cheek.

"You want to sleep in?" He asks in that same intimate tone.

"I want us to sleep in." I clarify, my words mildly distorted with of my cheek smushed against the pillow.

Soft laughter.

My cheeks crease.

"Did you dream?" He asks.

And I know he means Did you dream of me?

"Mmmm, I didn't."

"I did."

My eyes snap open and I meet his eyes, luminous in the dark. I turn onto my back, moving closer to him. He leans on one elbow, propping the side of his head against his palm.

"What did you see?" I breathe, my heart hammering into my ribs, eyes wide.

His gaze dips to where his finger traces the curve of my ear.

"Mm. We've caused some mischief," He says and when I laugh, his lips curve in a smile, "We're running down a flight of stairs."

"And?" I whisper.

He meets my eyes, "You look around, stop and turn to give me a kiss."

"Mmmm. Was it a good kiss?" I ask, warmth pooling in my gut.

"The best." He says.

I hear something in his voice, a wistfulness.

"Why was it the best?" I ask.

His lashes lower, his hand coming to rest over my navel. My stomach flutters and I struggle to control my breathing.

"Because it was a young kiss. Carefree, laughter."

I turn and his hand curls around my waist and then flattens against my back with my movement. I stare up at him.

"How is different from an adult's kiss?" I ask.

His gaze lifts and there's a strange kind of light in his eyes. As if he were speaking of different things, heavier things.

"An adult's kiss is about sex, possession and of the body."

I'm quiet for a minute. "Is that how you think I kiss you?"

His expression softens, "No. But it's neither a child's kiss."

I realise slowly, what he was trying to say.

"You wish we'd had that in this life. Met earlier?"

His hand stills at my back for the smallest moment. His gaze turns thoughtful.

"Perhaps." He says.

"I'd have been your first kiss." I grin.

A slow smile spreads his lips, "In many ways you were."

"Come here." I say.

He obliges, leaning toward me—screw morning breath—and tilting his head to fit our lips together. I give him an adult kiss and he recognises it. He makes a sound at the back of his throat. I push him over, our lips breaking contact and turn over and straddle him. I lean over, clasping his cheeks and drawing his lips against mine once more.