“You — /you/ chose. Do you not see, Henry? You say you do not know your own heart, and yet — do you truly not see? Even before you heard me expose my heart, here, already you encouraged my emotion, and yet deny your own.” She stopped, looking earnestly up at Henry. “If in the end, in the end, Henry, it is not to be, I would wish to know that we took the chance. That you allowed yourself the chance.”
He looked at her and touched her face.
“I do not wish to break your heart if it is not meant to be… I would never wish that upon you but…” he stopped and looked at her again, and he leaned in closer, his lips almost touching hers again.
“I do not think I would deny you…”
Slowly, Summer closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. Offering. Asking. After a moment, she pulled away, whispering, “For my own, if my heart be broken, it will ache the less for that I loved thee. Let me choose this, Henry. Mine heart is thine already, wilt not accept it?”
He leaned into the kiss and his lips followed hers as she moved away, and he wanted to kiss her again. His heart was beating wildly now and he just had such a desire to take her in his arms.
“I will…” he whispered to her as he took her face in his hands and kissed her again, but this was not a kiss like the other. This one was heavy with desire and want, and he moved his hands against her, trying to be as close as he could be with her. His fingers moved to her hair as he tightened his grip around her waist, moaning slightly into the kiss.
Henry’s arms encircled her, enclosing her in safety. Summer smiled into the kiss, relief and happiness suffusing her. His desire tasted of honey and wine, intoxicating to her senses. She pressed against him, trying to communicate her own want, fingers curling against his chest. But she refused to break the kiss even for a second, chasing his mouth if he tried to pull away, biting softly at his lips.