Garden of May

Chapter 41

Their breaths mingled softly, less a kiss than the tentative touch of two people finding each other in the dark. Or perhaps, a first greeting.

Their lips parted reluctantly. Vanessa, who had instinctively closed her eyes, slowly lifted her trembling lashes. River Ross stood close enough that their noses almost touched. His blue eyes, the color of a chillingly beautiful May sky, held her gaze. He took her arm and placed it around his neck. His smooth tongue, coaxing her lips apart, delved between them in a single stroke, sweetly swallowing the dampness that gathered there.

Vanessa felt him at the edge of her senses, the soft mingling of their skin, the lukewarm slide of his lips against hers. He tasted, surprisingly, of expensive masculinity—the taste of the cologne he wore; cool, heavy, and born from a scent that made her knees weak.

Now, she didn’t know what to believe. River Ross’s gentle face contrasted with his cool eyes, his heated touch with his detached demeanor, his saliva-soaked lips with his dry breath. Everything about him seemed false, yet simultaneously, utterly true. Like this very space, where extravagant luxuries coexisted with two-penny necessities. He was a man like a meticulously crafted summer illusion.

“River, River! W-wait, just a moment.”

Just as her body began to tip backward, Vanessa gasped and pushed against his shoulders. At her breathless words, River Ross chuckled softly.

Her breath hitched. Her lips trembled delicately, like the wings of a newborn bird. River Ross’s fingers tightened slightly around her chin. He captured her parted, moist lips once more. A little, a little deeper.

“Mm.”

Heat bloomed, just from this small contact, like that afternoon. Helpless, Vanessa crumpled her skirt in her hands. In the brief pause between their kisses, she gasped and pushed at his shoulder again.

“Wait, just a moment…”

“Why?”

He lifted his head, a touch of annoyance in his expression, his lips having trailed along the delicate curve of her neck. Vanessa flustered, fidgeting with her limbs.

“I, I’m sweating too much right now.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, no! It’s, it’s… Isn’t it too hot? What if we, um, went to the river just for a bit?”

“Go out? Now?”

Her face flushed crimson as she nodded earnestly.

“I didn’t expect this… I’m dirty. I want to wash up. A wet towel, or even just dipping my feet in… would be nice.”

He looked at her silently for a moment, then released her. Vanessa, her face a mixture of surprise and relief, caught his sleeve.

“Where are you going?”

“You want to wash up. I’ll get some water.”

He gently pushed her hand away and stood, his movements practiced as he picked up the wooden bucket by the door. Before stepping out, he glanced back at her.

“Just so you know, you weren’t dirty. Not at all.”

Vanessa stared blankly at the half-open door he left behind. Her fingertips trembled as she touched her heated lips. What would happen when he returned? Would they go all the way?

The situation itself provided the answer. Even without knowing the specifics of intimacy between a man and a woman, she knew this was the moment right before being ‘led to the bed.’

Of course, the act itself was something she had longed for. It was more embarrassing than she had anticipated, a tingling sensation that made her squirm, a helpless feeling of being swept away…

‘It was hot.’

The kiss, the way he touched and looked at her, his eyes, and even her body’s fervent response to all of him… Vanessa exhaled a shaky breath. Her hand, which had been tracing her lips, slowly moved down to fiddle with the ribbon at her neckline.