It wasn't planned. Unlike many things in our peculiar life of a contract marriage.
It was in the kitchen, where all the action took place.
I'm just putting the final cookies out of a craving that I've had all week. The sweetness was warm and irresistibly mouth-watering before it cooled off and I couldn't keep my hands off it. I made a face at the heat on my tongue, fanned my mouth.
Ethan chuckled behind me. A real chuckle, not the polite clipped chuckles he gave to the board members or the staff.
"You're impatient," he said, stepping closer.
You're bossy," I replied eye-rolling.
"Maybe," he murmured. His voice was soft and nearer.
I turned my head to be ready for teasing him, but the air changed the moment our eyes met. His eyes softened, none of the coldness that he could often hide behind in his eyes. Just… Ethan.
We both stood in silent motionless for a split second. I was breathing more rapidly than I knew how to.
Then, he took a moment, and he closed the distance.
His hand moved to my cheek, but not too fast, not too soon, his exploring finger finding its way like he had been thinking about it for weeks. I froze for half a second, but then melted, all my muscles gave way when he leaned his head towards me and kissed me.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't demanding. It was… searching.
My senses were numbed with warmth, a sensation more than just attraction, more than just curiosity. I picked up his shirt with my fingers almost on instinct, clutching it like it was going to slip out of my hands.
Pulling back just enough, our foreheads touched. My breath was intermingled with his breath, which was unstable.
"That, he whispered, "was not meant to be."
"No, this marriage," I whispered, "was not like that." "But here we are."
He didn't have an answer for once.
But, for once, I didn't need one.