𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 - 𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 ˚｡⋆ ༘˚✧
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𝐱𝐢𝐯.

𝐈𝐓 was as though the entire world had ceased its motion, leaving only the two of them to draw breath. Benedict had yet to find words in response to what she had spoken; he was utterly dumbfounded, and though he wished not to appear discourteous, he found himself at a loss for any fitting reply.

She gazed at him intently, her eyes searching his face for any sign that might reveal whether her words had been a grievous error. Benedict, regaining his composure, straightened his posture and gently took Athena's hands in his own. With a tender squeeze, he lifted her delicate fingers to his lips, bestowing a soft, reverent kiss upon her knuckles. 

"I have desired you from the very night I understood how deeply it would wound me to lose you. I perceive so much of myself reflected in you, and in my heart, you are the very essence of what I have long sought." Benedict took a deep breath, his gaze dropping to his trembling hands. He still clasped Athena's hands, though his mind scarcely registered that she, too, was trembling. "I would never allow myself to lose you again," he continued, his voice low and fervent, "and certainly not to a man who is unworthy of you."

Athena gently lifted his chin, compelling him to meet her gaze. "Then do something about it, Mr. Bridgerton," she whispered, her voice steady but laced with challenge. "It is in action that you reveal your true feelings. Words are but a shadow compared to deeds."

In an instant, Benedict released her hands, his resolve solidifying. With a swift, decisive motion, he placed his right hand on her neck, pulling her closer. The world around them faded as he closed his eyes and captured her lips in a kiss, the intensity of his emotions conveyed in that single, unspoken act.

She hadn't fully processed the reality that she was kissing him. Never in her wildest thoughts had she envisioned her first kiss occurring outside the bounds of marriage, and certainly not with a man she wasn't even close to marrying. Her fingers, which had been tightly gripping the fabric of her skirt, gradually relaxed. Tentatively, she placed her hands on his chest, her touch light yet purposeful, hoping to feel his heart racing as wildly as hers was. 

Never before had she kissed or touched a man in such an intimate manner. Uncertain and inexperienced, she possessed no knowledge of what should transpire next, yet she found herself instinctively mirroring the tender movements of his lips. Her heart fluttered in a manner both thrilling and terrifying, a sensation wholly new to her sensibilities. The warmth of his embrace, though foreign, did not stir in her a desire to withdraw, but rather an inexplicable yearning to remain within its shelter. She felt the whisper of his breath against her cheek, the closeness of his frame—a nearness that both emboldened and confounded her.