Page 21 of Tattle Tail
“Good, because I sent Marigold a list of tailors that could make you a suit on short notice.”
“That was you? Of course, that was you.” Then, “Do we need rules? For this?”
“Guidelines are always helpful.” She would suggest no kissing, but she already broke that one. “We should only do what we are comfortable with.”
“Are you comfortable with this?” He leaned forward and picked up her hand.
“Yes.”
“This?” He rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand.
“Yes.”
“This?” He raised a hand to her cheek. When she flinched, he paused. Taking a breath, she nodded, and he stroked the back of his hand along her jaw. It felt too good. Too intimate.
“Engaged people are expected to be intimate,” she said, more for her benefit than his. “I should be comfortable with your touch.”
To demonstrate this, she moved to sit next to him on the sofa.
“I should warn you, I’m a hugger,” he said. “I come from a long line of huggers. People huggers. Tree huggers. Star huggers. You don’t know the world of snuggles I’m gonna unleash on you.” His tone was light and teasing as he gave her the chance to back away.
She would not. Not now. “I am not afraid of your hugs.”
“Are you sure?” He shifted, partially facing her. “Because if I hug you, I’m going to kiss you.”
“If you are comfortable with that,” she said. Did he think this would intimidate her? Get her to back down from what? Soft touches and cuddles?
Ridiculous.
She lifted her chin. “Do your worst.”
He tugged on her wrist, pulling her forward into his lap. In a smooth motion, he had his arms around her. She put her hands on his chest, almost giddy to discover how firm he felt under his shirt.
He watched her carefully as he cupped the side of her face. His fingers combed through her hair. He brushed against the base of her ears. She jolted at the touch.
“No good?”
“Unexpected,” she said. “Do it again.”
She held herself still as he stroked from the base of her ear to the tip. The fine hairs on the inside tickled at the sensation, making her want to lean into his touch for more.
He licked his lips, watching her reaction.
“We should practice kissing,” she said.
“You seemed pretty good at it.”
She searched his face for any signs that he teased her. He seemed sincere. “Pretty good will not convince my mother.”
“Well, for the sake of credibility, we should practice,” he said, voice low.
He placed a hand on the back of her neck, his palm warm against her skin. Watching her, he pulled her toward him.
Their lips brushed. Soft, soft enough to doubt they ever touched. It was nice. Pleasant.
Underwhelming.
This lukewarm kiss might have been how Peaceable kissed, but she doubted that was how Joseph kissed.
