My Heart | Book 4 of My Bodyguard

Chapter 22 | Kiss Me

Julian POV

Jaskier smiled softly to Geralt as he felt the material of Geralts jacket end up sprawled out over his lap. He readjusted it to the neck of the jacket was on his stomach and fanning out to cover his lap. He could feel the insulation inside of the jacket radiate the heat back onto his lap and Lord, it felt like a cozy heaven.

Jaskier was silent, looking out the window the whole time and watched the street lights which were giving odd a pale yellow streak of light to the footpath occasionally. He watched, quite satasfied with doing just that before he realised they had made it to the apartment. He had gotten so used to Geralts driving, it didn't make him realise how fast time had gone. He looked over to Geralt and smiled at the ring glistening on the wheel. It was stupid really, being so happy over such a simple thing but honestly, he loved that Geralt loved it and enjoyed to wear it. Concidering he had not taken it off, he assumed Geralt did like it. He waited for the car to turn off, reached over with his hand to Geralts, fixated by the ring he was wearing. He lightly let his fingertips brush over it, fingers staying on the man's hand, not holding it but touching softly as he looked to Geralt.

This was his last proper night with the man. Tomorrow night, would be hell and full of sorrow and he'd be surprised if he got any sleep. So tonight he would count as their last night. He gave a soft fond smile to Geralt before he leaned a little closer towards Geralt. If he kissed him now, it would be loving. And there was no escaping it. He would be trapped by Geralt but christ, his own eyes flickered up tot Geralts eyes. Honey for the trap. The trap he so desperately wanted to be caught in.

Geralt POV

Geralt held his hand still as Jaskier traced over it. He didn't mind. This was fine. He wasn't uncomfortable. Or if he was, it wasn't because the ring could be seen as him being claimed as Jaskier's own. It was because he liked it.

He leaned in a little closer as well, mind still working even as his right hand, the one without the ring, slid up to rest gently on the side of Jaskier's face. He didn't try to kiss him. Geralt wouldn't object to that, right now, but he had also just remembered that they needed to grab dinner. He had conveniently forgotten before he'd gotten in the car. Damn.

But that could wait a few more minutes. So Geralt stayed put. He watched Jaskier for a while longer, mapping out the man's face. Every feature. Every slight line. Every one of the pale, infrequent freckles from his time in the sun. He memorized the shadows Jaskier's hair cast on his face. The way his eyes were slightly different shades. Geralt took a long, deep breath and just held it. He took in Jaskier's scent, a hint of oranges and warm car mixed in as well. He could stay here forever and never be full.

He didn't kiss Jaskier. Much as he longed to taste the man's lips again, pressing their foreheads lightly together and just breathing was far, far superior. So he did. He let himself grow lost in the smell of Jaskier.

Julian POV

Jaskier looked to Geralt, feeling Geralts eyes on him and the way the man was basking up his scent. He leaned forwards, allowing their foreheads to meet as Geralt wished them to and inhaled, taking in the other man's scent as well. They smelt almost the same, it was odd but it brung a pleasant feeling in the bottom of his gut as he had to resist leaning forwards.

That lasted for all for a few moments before he leaned in and allowed his lips to barely touch Geralts, his fingers slipping over the man's ring once again, gently allowing his fingers to feel the metal, warm from Geralts skin and the heat of the car.

Jaskier smiled ever so lightly, lips being felt on his own but damn well barely. His eyes had fluttered closed at some point and he wasn't too sure when they did. All he could think of right now was how damn intoxicating Geralt was. Jaskier closed the gap between them after a couple of breaths and kissed the man in front of him. He exhaled through his nose in a satasfied silent groan, curling his fingers slowly around Geralts and held his hand. It was intertwined, loose and barely properly holding. But lord, how could he not get lost in this man? How could he not want to get lost in this man?