Those kisses were clumsy, inexperienced, fumbling. Those boys were either shy and uncertain, or demanding and aggressive.
Cillian is none of those things.
Under other circumstances, I might be intimidated by his self-assurance. His poise. He’s obviously done this before—kissed, touched, had sex.
But somehow, none of that scares me right now.
Because there’s more in his kiss than simple desire.
I can tell he cares about me.
We may be strangers still. But you don’t have to know someone to care, do you?
When we break apart, Cillian’s lips have a slight blush on them and I can feel how raw my own are. I half expect the sun to be coming up.
Surely, we’d been kissing for hours…
But no.
The sun is still hours away from rising. His hand is still pressed against my cheek, cupping my face.
“I’ll be damned,” Cillian breathes.
I smile. “Best kiss you’ve ever had?” I ask.
“Hands down.”
I smile shyly.
“You’re not going to second-guess me?” he asks. “You’re not going to call me out for lying?”
“No,” I say. “I believe you this time.”
I turn on the spot, angling my face up to the fairy lights hanging over us. The little alcove we’ve walked into has been set up with a deep bench, on top of which lays a thick beige rug.
“Wow,” he grins. “I’ve won your trust.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I correct quickly. “I just… That kiss was pretty…”
I trail off, suddenly conscious of the way his eyes are following me. I choose to focus instead on running my fingers through the lush rug.
“Yes?” he presses. “Pretty what? Pretty mind-boggling? Earth-shattering? Leg-quivering?”
I shrug, trying to throw off that all-encompassing feeling of transformation.
“It was good.”
“Good?!” Cillian bursts, his eyes bugging out a little. “Just good?”
“Yeah.” I bite back a smile. “It was good.”
He snorts. “That kiss was more than just good. ‘Good’ doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
I laugh. “How would you describe it?”
He thinks about it for a moment. “I would describe it as… the kind of kiss that you would cross oceans for. The kind of kiss you’d go into battle for. The kind of kiss that’d make a hero out of a villain.”
I stare at him blankly. “That was almost poetic.”