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The moon cast its cold blue light into his bedchamber. Never before had he found its light cold, but this time he did.
Undressed, Colin plopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Never before had lips or eyes or curls followed him into his dreams.
Seeing those red curls down, had done something to him. The way they cascaded down her shoulders, like liquid copper.
He dreamt of those two blue pools that had always seen him like no one else ever had. She saw him. Saw his innermost. What he could hide from anyone else, she saw.
Just like that.
Never before had a kiss felt like it could move entire continents, unhinge all of his feelings, his entire existence.
He just wanted to do her a favour, that's what she had asked for, wasn't it?
A favour.
A kiss.
A single kiss.
He would have kissed her again.
Again
and again.
Those lips, full and plump and oh so soft. The image of her licking frosting from them haunted him every hour, minute, second of every day.
If he didn't dream of her at night, insomnia haunted him.
Insomnia that was filled with thoughts of her. All-consuming thoughts of her, his Penelope, his best friend since childhood.
He wanted to kiss her again, taste her, touch her. He wanted to know if her skin was as soft everywhere.