Constance never let him finish the worldâs shortest-lived apology. Before Forwin could make some excuse or another for the obvious of his own selfishness, action quieted him when she ignored his words altogether and pulled him in for another kiss. And another. And another. It was almost as if she was afraid he would disappear on her yet again, should she accidentally let him slip from her grasp.
Well, he had no intention to leave now, not when war threatened to tear his homeland asunder, and especially not when she needed him by her side once more. Forwin understood that, if he was to show just how sorry he was⊠then Houses Gerth and Nuvelle would have to reconcile right here and now. For every lie he told to her as Forwin, and for every burden he shouldered as Wyndell, he swore in silence he would redeem himself to her. He wanted to. No, he had to!
âWith everything I owe you and more, Constance.â
No longer feeling the need to stay put with his back flat against brick, it was his turn to pull at the noblewoman now. The beauty in her keeping eyes closed made surprising her all the easier, with naught but the simple act of encircling her waist with his arms and pushing their bodies all the closer together. Forwin already abandoned his gloves, all so that his hands could feel at her more and mark himself all the more present to her.
Had they still been teenagers, he could imagine himself delighting in smooching Constance von Nuvelle herself in secret, all the way by some faraway storage room away from Abyss proper. As an adult man, however⊠no, he knew this wasnât enough. Sure, holding her close in a proper embrace made returning her kisses all the easier⊠but they were also made all the more feverish, like a kettle of water only now realizing it was boiling over the fire, metal starting to burn and water bubbling as it began to steam. That same warmth flooded his chest now, and surely reached his own face already.
Rationally thinking, he knew he should rejoin the others. Sooner or later, they will wonder where the pair of ex-nobles wandered off to.
But that would mean kissing Constance would end.
Forwin didnât want it to end. Not yet. Not until heâd had his fill.
Constance couldnât think straight. Or rather, she didnât want to think straight.
Every kiss made her feelings all the clearer, but all the murkier. She didnât hate him; that was the worst part. She never did hate him. She hated the betrayal, and what he represented, but never him. She wanted to tear him apart, but as he touched her, she realised she wanted him to tear her apart instead. No, it wasnât ladylike, but sheâd thrown that away the moment she started kissing him.
Yes, eventually they would have to stop this. Eventually, they would have to return. Not right now. She wasnât going anywhere until she was done with him, until he had earned her forgiveness. She knew how he would achieve that, and how she would achieve everything she had been wanting for longer than she cared to admit.
She wanted him, in every way a person could want another. Now that those feelings had squirmed free, there was no way that she could ignore it. There was no way she could go back. If Forwin was offering to make it up to her, then by all means.
She pried her lips away from his, though it took a considerable amount of effort.
âDo you mean that?â she asked. She narrowed her eyes up at him. âBecause if you do, then you will do anything I ask of you, wonât you?â
She felt this was enough to get her intentions across, with their bodies pressed together. Should she dare to be bolder? No. Forwin was no idiot. Her intentions were clear, even if the conditions were not ideal. Privacy was the best they could ask for in Abyss, so this would have to do.
