Fabio learned forward and kissed her softly. It started off as chaste, close-mouthed but then their lips moved as if with one mind. His lips were warm, his breath faintly sweet with the wine from dinner. For a moment, Giselle forgot the room, the walls, even the faint crackle of the hearth across the chamber. All she knew was the feel of his mouth against hers—hesitant, yet firm. Large, warm palms held her face close, touching her cheeks almost reverently. The kiss inevitably deepened until his warmth pushed gently into hers, not intrusively as she'd remembered earlier. This time it felt more gentle, less lustful.
Her hands slid up his shoulders, feeling the quiet strength there, the warmth beneath his skin. He leaned closer, his forehead brushing hers, eyes searching her face as though memorizing it.
When he drew back, it took everything in her not to chase his lips. Her breath caught at the realization. She didn't know what to say.
