My Summer in London

Chapter Six

My lips simply took his, and I felt him freeze. Nonetheless, I was too overwhelmed with passion, so I ignored his reaction and continued my own desires by deepening the kiss, forcing his lips to open. My tongue parted his lips, consuming him without reservations. It took him a second, maybe a few more, before he finally took hold of the situation and kissed me just as ardently, just as feverishly, devouring my lips as if they were a decadent piece of chocolate.

The sudden progress of how quickly things shifted between us left me reeling at how consumed he was.

I wasn't sure why I had done it. The moment was a sudden rush of heightened awareness. His close proximity, his intoxicating male essence drugged me into an exquisite stupor. Then my lips became possessed and took over, expelling what little inhibitions I had left.

Being this close to him-having his lips mesh against mine in a heated, erotic kiss-was beyond anything I had ever experienced. Nothing came close. Nothing could compare. One kiss was all it took for me to know I was more than unhealthily attracted to Cruz. I was, in fact, epically crushing on him.

My corrupt thoughts came to a sudden pause when the man whose lips I had technically raped and ambushed decided to halt, and he looked me in the eye with such profound severity that I literally forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

Those eyes ... Those beautiful, magnetic eyes made my heart skip not one, not two, but many beats. When it regained its momentum, my heart was beating erratically.

"We should head back," he murmured in a croaky voice, which made me think of hot sex. And lots of it.

With my tinted cheeks, I didn't recoil from his powerful gaze. "Yeah ... um ... we should." I tried to sound normal, unsure of where his mood was. Was he upset about my impulsive actions? Was it too slutty for me to advance on a man who didn't make the first move to kiss me? He wasn't necessarily being cold, but there was something amiss. I could feel him thinking deeply, and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

Getting up from the cool, stone bench, I followed him out of the beautiful place, but before fully exiting, I twisted my body one more time to get another glimpse of it, knowing all too well I wasn't ever going to forget this place or this particular memory.

There was something about him that drew me towards him in the most nonsensical way. It was indescribable, and even though I wasn't sure where this was heading, I knew the chemistry between us existed. It was palpable. If he couldn't feel it, then he must have some sort of chemical imbalance because, fuck, I could literally feel the electric current bouncing off us, ready to spark fire. Suffice to say, however, my self-preservation was in effect, helping to settle my relentless hormones.

Sending him a quick glance, I noted how tense he was. His posture and his hands in his pockets didn't give me the kind of reassurance I needed. Regardless, instead of prying into his thoughts, I resorted to the waiting game, hoping the tension would disappear, and he would be back to his gorgeous smiles and unending teases.

Striding back out to the main garden, I emerged near the line of trees as the spell of that secret spot gradually disintegrated, and I was placed back in reality. Question after question hounded my thoughts, wondering what major consequences I had to deal with after that bold kiss.

We didn't speak at all as we retraced our steps to the house. Then, the second we reached the French doors, he led us through before halting his steps to face me.

He had unreadable expression across his handsome face, giving nothing away. "I'll bid my goodnight here, Serena," he uttered in a tone teachers would use if they had caught someone cheating.