Thoroughly Kissed (29 page)

“You know,” she said, “they say talking about it makes things easier.”

“I have been talking about it,” he said. “You're just stubborn.”

“I'm just experienced.”

“No,” he said. “You're not.”

She leaned back in the booth. “I don't know what I've done to make you so mad.”

“I'm not mad,” he said, stabbing his fork into a french fry as if it had offended him. “I'm worried.”

“There's nothing to be worried about,” she said. “We'll figure this out when we get to Oregon.”

“Great,” he muttered. “That makes me feel so much better. It's like high school, only worse.”

“I never went to high school,” Emma said, “so you want to explain that?”

“It feels like I'm a teenage boy who can only kiss his girl if her father's watching.”

Emma felt a wave of anger run through her. She took a deep breath to suppress it. “One, I am not your girlfriend. Two, we are not in high school. Three, Aethelstan is not my father—”

“Worse, he's your ex-fiancé.”

“Yeah, from a thousand years ago.”

Michael picked up his burger. He had to squash it with his fingers just to get it to fit in front of his face. “You don't understand.”

“Of course I do. You're a product of your generation. You want everything now. Well, Michael, not everything can happen now.”

“This isn't about delayed gratification. Not really.” He took a bite of the burger, chewed, and closed his eyes. “This is the best burger I've ever had.”

“This is about a burger?” she asked.

“No.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I'm worried that once we get to Oregon, you'll come up with some other excuse.”

“Excuse?” She set down her fork. “Suddenly this is about a physical relationship we don't and may never have?”

“The ‘may never' is the key part.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Because you're pissing me off.”

“As if that's hard.” Michael picked up his burger and ate as if the conversation weren't bothering him at all.

“What did I do to you?” Emma asked. Her voice was rising. “I was honest with you. You know what the problem is.”

He nodded. “And it has me worried.”

“Because you can't go to bed with me?”

Heads turned toward them. The entire coffee shop heard that. Michael ignored them. “No. Because I have a hunch the problem goes deeper than a single kiss.”

Emma gritted her teeth. She was not going to yell at him, not again. “What problem?”

Michael took a bite of his burger. The other patrons were still watching them. Michael didn't look at them, but Emma glared at each and every one of them until they turned away.

Finally her gaze met Michael's. He was watching her with complete patience. That irritated her as well. Why would he be patient while trying to make her angry?

“I think,” he said slowly, softly, “you're afraid of someone getting close.”

She snorted. The idea was preposterous. “Yeah, right.”

“So tell me why none of your friends even knows about your history. Why none of them would drop everything to help you out.”

“People don't work like that,” she said.

“Really?” He ate a french fry. “I did.”

“After you were visited by the Ghost of Christmas Present.”

“That wasn't his name.”

“I know,” Emma said. “But that's not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“You didn't want to come with me either. People don't like me.”

“Maybe you don't give them a chance,” Michael said.

Emma shoved her plate away. Her stomach was too upset to accept food. “So it's my fault that people don't like me.”

“I didn't say they don't like you. I said they don't know you.”

“And I'm supposed to tell them the truth?”

“Your closest friends, yes.”

“I told you the truth.”

“Because you had no choice,” Michael said. “That's not real flattering when it comes down to it.”

“I'm supposed to flatter you and then sleep with you, is that it?”

“No,” Michael said evenly. He shoved his plate away too. “Your anger is your defense. It keeps people away, and it keeps you from hearing things you don't like.”

Her cheeks flooded with warmth. That felt too close to her own thoughts from the last few days. She felt almost as if she were naked before this man.

“Okay,” she said. “Make your point. I'll do my best to listen.” Then she glared at the other patrons who had started staring again. “If you people mind your own business.”

Everyone turned away, but she knew that they were listening just the same. She would have been listening, if she were them.

“Emma,” Michael said softly, “you've been awake for ten years, and you've never dealt with this kissing problem before?”

“I've been busy,” she whispered. “I've been learning about this culture.”

“You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Fairy tale beautiful. Movie star beautiful.” Michael was leaning so close that he was nearly bent double. But he was whispering as well. No one could have heard this part of the conversation. “You can't tell me that there haven't been interested men.”

“I can also tell you that a double negative is grammatically confusing.”

Michael shook his head and leaned back. “No games, Emma, please. You have had this problem before, haven't you? You chased every man who was interested away.”

“There's never been an interested man,” Emma said.

“You said every man flirts with you.”

“That's not interest.”

“Of course it's interest,” Michael said. “You just haven't been interested in return. I think you're too scared.”

“I'm not scared of anything.”

“Except another magical coma.”

She drew in a quick breath. “You said you'd respect my wishes. You said no kissing.”

“And I'll keep that promise,” he said. “But for the last day, I've been wondering if that's the only promise you'll have me make.” He slid out his hand and extended it. She didn't move hers. “Emma, listen. I'm trying to say something very serious and making a mess of it.”

She picked up her water glass, sipped, and waited, trying to keep herself calm.

“I'm worried and here's why.” He scooted closer to her. Apparently he felt the other patrons were still listening. “Your parents gave you away. The woman who was supposed to raise you turned out to be some hellish creature out of Grimm. The man who claimed he loved you kept you in a box for a thousand years and then when you woke up, married someone else.”

“It wasn't like that,” Emma said softly.

“The only close friends you have live half a continent away—and they happen to be your ex-fiancé and his wife. You've told me the only person—your word—who ever accepted you for you was your cat.”

He slipped his arm around her. She sat rigidly, not wanting to lean into him at all, not wanting to let him know how good his touch felt.

“Emma,” he said, “I'm going to kiss you. And if something goes wrong, I'll make it right. You have to trust me. I won't let you lose a single day, a single moment of your life. I promise.”

Her heart was pounding hard. “Michael—”

But at that moment, he leaned into her and his lips caught hers. She started to pull away, but he tightened his hold on her shoulder. His lips teased hers, tasted hers, and she couldn't help herself. She tasted him as well.

He broke contact first. “See,” he whispered. “We're safe.”

“That's not a kiss,” she said. “That's not the kind that—”

He kissed her again, this time taking her face in his hands. He caught her open mouth, held it, and they shared the same breath. He waited, almost as if he were asking a question, almost as if he were asking her permission.

She gave it by not moving. She didn't know what else to do. She hadn't been kissed, really kissed, for a thousand years.

He slipped his hands into her hair, pulled her so close that she couldn't tell where she ended and he began. The kiss grew deeper, and she moaned, sliding her hands around his back.

Applause echoed throughout the restaurant and the two of them pulled away from each other as if they'd been burned. All of the patrons at all of the tables were clapping, watching them, and smiling. Emma's cheeks flamed so deeply that she thought the heat would scorch her. Michael was blushing too. The blush ran from the roots of his hair all the way down his neck.

“I'm sorry, Emma,” he whispered. “I forgot where we were.”

She stared at the clapping patrons for a moment, too stunned to be angry. And then she realized that she was awake. There was no coma—and that was certainly the most passionate kiss of her entire life.

She turned to Michael and slipped her arms around his neck, kissing him again, not caring about the patrons, the restaurant, or anything else.

“Emma,” he said against her mouth, but she didn't stop. She had never felt so alive, so free.

A slapping sound made her start. The waitress had slammed the check onto the table, then left her hand on top of it so that they would both turn to her. She was grinning.

“Sign this to your room and get out of here, you two,” she said. “You'll have a lot more fun somewhere else.”

Emma felt her cheeks flame even more. Michael laughed uncomfortably and slid the check toward him. His hands were shaking.

Everyone in the restaurant was still watching them. Emma wasn't angry at them for it—she was too happy. She was still here, everything was fine, and Michael wanted her. Michael wanted her as much as she wanted him.

He slid out of the booth and so did she. As they stood up, the restaurant patrons started clapping again. This time, Michael took her hand and held it up. Then he swept it down, pulling her into a bow. The crowd roared its appreciation, and the applause got louder.

Michael then tugged her from the restaurant, laughing as he went. “I've never received applause for kissing someone before.”

“Me either,” Emma said.

He stopped on the sidewalk, pulled her close, and kissed her again. This kiss was deeper than the last. She wrapped her arms around him and raised her left foot just like the women did in the movies. That threw her off balance, and Michael had to catch her to keep her from falling.

“Always wondered why they did that,” he murmured. “Now I know.”

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward the room. She started to protest, but he kissed her again—a quick, affectionate peck on the lips.

“How many men get to carry Sleeping Beauty?” he said.

“You're the first,” she said, then she smiled. “That I know of.”

He laughed, and then tried to balance her with one hand as he fumbled in his pocket for his key. He was teetering precariously. Emma put one hand against the wall.

“Let me,” she said, and pulled her key from her pocket.

“I think you should probably open the door as well,” he said.

“Might be better if you put me down.”

“Don't want to be carried over the threshold?”

“I'm not wearing white,” Emma said and slipped to the floor. Michael put his arms around her waist as she opened the door. She turned toward him, kissed him again, her hand lingering on his face.

She was free. A thousand years of curses and she was free for the very first time. The joy inside her was more than she could bear. And she was pleased that she was experiencing this with Michael. Her Michael.

His kiss froze, and he pulled away from her. Her stomach lurched. Had she done something wrong? Then she followed his gaze and turned around.

A man sat on the love seat. He was a large, muscular man with sun-leathered skin. He wore a denim shirt with snap buttons, jeans, cowboy boots, and a large black hat. The scent of Old Spice filled the room.

He was petting Darnell, an aggressive hard pet designed to hold a cat not to comfort him. And Darnell was struggling, but he wasn't meowing like he normally would have.

“I see I've come at a bad time,” the man said.

“Who the hell are you?” Michael asked, shoving Emma behind him as if he were going to protect her.

“Tell the mortal he's dismissed,” the man said.

“I'm not leaving,” Michael said.

“Tell him if he insists on staying, he'll have to be voiceless. A statue, perhaps. I can strip him for you, see if he rivals Michelangelo's
David
.”

Emma slipped around Michael. As she did, she whispered, “Don't say anything else.”

“Wise advice,” the man said. “Mortals should be seen, not heard.”

“Let go of my cat,” Emma said.

“Your familiar, such as he is,” the man said. “If I control him, I control you.”

“No one controls me,” Emma said.

“That's fairly obvious.” The man pulled Darnell closer. Darnell opened his mouth and moved it in an obvious meow, but made no sound.

“Give me my cat.”

“If I give you the cat, I lose my advantage.”

Emma remembered the language spell she had cast on Darnell. She repeated it now, and clapped her hands. Nothing happened.

“You lack control, my dear.” The man had thin lips that nearly disappeared when he smiled.

Then Darnell swelled up, like a little kitty balloon, and became a black lion. The man let go. Darnell took a swipe at him, and the man placed his hands in front of him, creating a barrier. Darnell batted at it, but couldn't get through.

“Call him off,” the man said.

“No,” Emma said. “Not until you tell me what you want.”

“I think that's obvious,” the man said, keeping his gaze on Darnell. “Those were my shades you vanquished so indelicately on the plains. You know, you didn't have to destroy them. You could have just sent them back to me.”