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Rayburn's laughter filled the air. There was no sound of mice or cricket anymore. It was like they knew, just knew, they shouldn't waste the opportunity of listening to the exquisite sound.
Angela's heart wasn't that smart.
“Then, what are you saying is that I should only act like this to you. Right?"
Did he know he was even more handsome when he smiled outrightly like that?
"Right," just to me.
Leaning forward, he questioned, "Angela, should I do this to my other fans?" He slid his hand over her right cheek. His golden eyes were playful.
"No." She whispered, as hoarse and intimate as she never intended to. It made everything…, more .
Leaning on a little more, he asked, "Should I do this only to you?" He leisurely kissed her nose bright. One brief touch that took every one of Angela's words away from her.
She said nothing. She didn't need to. That wasn't happening. It was a dream because it couldn't be real. Could it?
Holding her hands together, Angela waited. Because in her silly little dreams – her greedy self-indulgence daydreams – that was the moment when they-
Grabbing her clenched hands with his own, Rayburn leaned on again, asking, "And this?" The laughter in his voice was gone, as was the playfulness in his eyes. They were still tender, though.
It surprised her that, before anything else, the tip of his nose, cold by the night air, brushed her cheek. Even his warm breath touched her mouth before his lips found hers. Angela had always thought the encounter of the lips would feel like the beginning of a kiss. She never imagined that it could feel like a conclusion. Or that a kiss could start with laughter and jests and become a complete mess.
When their lips touched, she noticed her hands, which she clenched out of nervousness, had been set in the worst possible position – between her and her Prince. For an instant, she wished to have hidden them behind her back, but then Rayburn wouldn’t be - delicate yet firmly – pulling her in his direction.
Kissing was like the time he taught her how to dance. Clumsy, Angela “stumbled” while trying to find a way to follow the rhythm. However, this time, Rayburn was learning too. Unlike her, he didn't react to his "stumbles" by backing down. He passed over the clumsiness of his attempts, regarding them as less important than what would follow.
At some point, kissing became effortless. It involved a lot of pressing and pulling parted lips and finding new ways to intertwine yours with the lips of the person you were kissing. It was an unexpectedly soothing activity.
Maybe It had been too soothing because that happened. Angela was too engrossed in the kiss, and, without thinking, her tongue slid between Rayburn's lips, brushing his and stunning them both.
She backed away, raising herself off the floor. Rayburn's eyes scrutinized her, mesmerized. Angela’s heartbeat was strong and fast, begging her to run in any direction, threatening her to – she was sure it would explode if she stayed still any longer.
However, Rayburn held her wrist before the first step of her escape. “Angela, wait.” He said. “Things like this, things that I should only do with you – you will also act like this just to me, right?” Embarrassed by her recent boldness, she couldn’t say a word. Or dare to peek at him.
Biting her lips with her gaze at the floor, Angela beckoned silently before pulling her wrist, which easily slid off his hold, and ran deeper into the maze.