I Remember The Kiss

Haze?

I barely remember walking back to the room last night.

One second I was on the cold marble floor, face buried in Benedict's chest, inhaling that clean citrus-and-cedar scent that made my head spin even through the tears. The next, I was already under the covers, still wearing the blue pajamas.

Dear lord! When did I get so emotional?

His arms had stayed around me longer than they should have-long enough that I felt the steady thud of his heartbeat against my ear, long enough that my fingers had curled into the back of his shirt like I was afraid he would vanish if I let go.

Why would I do that? What does it seem I would lose him too when he was never mine? What if he really leaves?

Would he? Even if he vanished, wouldn't that be a good thing? I was his brothers wife.

He hadn't said much after the first "It's going to be okay." Just murmured softly against my hair. Then:

"Breathe, Katherine."

"I've got you."

"You're not alone."

Then he pressed his lips to the top of my head-not a kiss exactly, more like a promise-and helped me stand. He walked me to my door, waited until I was inside, and only then did he let go.

Was that casual? Maybe because I was family I he really cared about me.

I cried myself to sleep after that. Not loud sobs. Quiet, ugly ones that left my throat raw and my eyes swollen. But when the crying stopped, the warmth lingered. His arms. His voice. The way he held me like I was something breakable and precious at the same time.

Morning light cut through the heavy curtains. I woke up curled on my side, hugging the pillow like it was him. My body felt different-rested, but restless.

I remembered every second of that hug again. The way his palms had flattened against my back, fingers splaying wide like he wanted to cover as much of me as possible. How his chin had rested on my hair. How solid his chest felt, how his heartbeat had sped up when I whispered "Please don't leave me."

Shot!

God. I was so pathetic. What would he think of me? First I kissed him as a stranger, pretend not to know him and ...and beg him not to leave.

"Fucking fantastic"

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push it away. "He's your brother-in-law. You're married. This is wrong on every level the church, the family, the law-hell, basic decency-could name."

But my body didn't care about decency. Morals and happiness? Those two hadn't been closer than the planets.

My nipples were already tight against the soft cotton of my top. Heat pooled between my legs, insistent, embarrassing. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, breathing slow. Tried to think of anything else. Sam's smug face. Mara's fake corpse in the tub. Susan laughing while John grunted in the background.

Nothing worked.

Instead I pictured Benedict's mouth-how it had felt in that bar when I was drunk and reckless. The way he'd groaned low in his throat when my hand brushed his zipper. The taste of whiskey and him. The way he'd kissed me like he was starving or like he had waited for it.

A whimper slipped out before I could stop it.

I slid one hand under the waistband of my pajama pants, hesitant at first. My fingers found slick heat and I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper. Just once. Just to take the edge off. I circled slowly, imagining it was his hand instead-bigger, rougher, more sure. Imagining his voice in my ear again: "Breathe, Katherine."

My hips jerked. Breath hitching. Fuckkkk.

I need to stop but I couldn't. I didn't want to.

I pressed two fingers inside, curling, chasing that fluttery ache that had started in my stomach and spread everywhere. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. Not when I knew exactly how his arms felt wrapped around me for real.

A sharp knock on the door jolted me upright.

"Katherine!" Sam's voice, clipped and irritated. "Breakfast. Now. Don't make me come in there."

My hand flew out of my pants. Heart slamming against my ribs. Face burning.

"Coming," I called back, voice higher than normal.

I scrambled out of bed, splashed cold water on my face, changed into a simple cream sweater and high-waisted jeans-nothing provocative, nothing that screamed 'I was just touching myself thinking about your brother'. Brushed my hair, swiped on lip balm. Anything to look normal.

Was I? Was I normal?

When I stepped into the hallway, Sam was already halfway down the stairs, not even glancing back.

The dining room smelled like fresh coffee and warm bread. Mr. and Mrs. Alexandrescu sat at the head of the long table, talking quietly in Romanian, I was fluent so I understood all. It wasn't about me so I ignored.

Danielle was scrolling on her phone, smiling at something. Benedict...

Benedict was already seated, newspaper open in front of him, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms corded and tanned.

My stomach flipped so hard I almost stumbled. Who the heck reads a newspaper now! In this tech age? Was he trying to avoid me? Was he thinking about yesterday?

Danielle waved me over. "Kat! Sit here." She patted the chair right beside Benedict.

Of course.

I hesitated one second too long. Sam glanced up from his phone, eyes narrowing. "Sit. We're eating as a family."

I slid into the seat. The table was wide, but the chairs were close. My thigh brushed Benedict's under the table the moment I sat down. Electric. I froze.

He didn't move away.

Instead his pinky finger grazed the side of my hand where it rested on the linen. Barely a touch. Accidental, maybe. But it felt deliberate. My pulse roared in my ears.

"Good morning," he murmured, so low only I could hear.

"Morning," I whispered back. My voice sounded wrecked.

His gaze flicked to my face-brief, burning-then dropped to my mouth. My lips parted on instinct.

I remembered the bar again. The way he'd kissed me back, how he didn't move back, hard length pressing insistently against my stomach while his tongue stroked deep and slow.

Heat flooded my cheeks. Between my legs. Everywhere.

'Shittt, bring yourself together, Kat! Snap out of it' I tried to scold myself.

I shifted, trying to put space between us. My knee bumped his. He didn't flinch. If anything, his thigh pressed firmer against mine-solid, warm, immovable. He was doing it on purpose, that I could tell.

I was going to combust.

Mrs. Alexandrescu passed me the bread basket with a polite smile. "Eat, dear. You look...Not well." She added after a brief hesitation.

I managed a thank-you and tore off a piece, but it stuck in my dry throat. Every time I swallowed, I felt Benedict watching. Not staring-nothing obvious-but aware. Like he could feel the frantic beat between my legs from two inches away.

His hand moved again. This time his fingers deliberately brushed the back of mine. Once. Twice. Then stayed, pinky hooking mine under the tablecloth.

'What the hell are you doing!!' I scolded him in my mind.

I sucked in a breath.

He didn't look at me. Just kept reading the paper like nothing was happening. But his finger curled tighter.

Butterflies didn't just flutter in my stomach-they rioted. My core clenched around nothing. I was wet again, embarrassingly so. If I stood up right now, there'd be a damp spot on the chair for sure

I couldn't do this.

I pushed my chair back too fast. It scraped loud against the floor.

Everyone looked.

"I-bathroom," I mumbled. "Excuse me."

I fled.

In the hallway I pressed my back to the wall, panting. Hands shaking. Thighs trembling. I squeezed them together, trying to ease the ache. It only made it worse.

This had never happened to me before!

"Get it together, Kat."

But all I could see was his mouth. His hands. The way he'd held me last night like I mattered.

I stayed there until my breathing steadied, then slipped into the powder room to splash more water on my face and pray no one could smell how turned on I was.

Was that even possible?

When I finally returned to the dining room, plates had been cleared. Sam stood by the doorway, arms crossed.

"Pack light," he said flatly. "We're leaving for my house in an hour. Say your goodbyes."

I nodded mutely. What freaking goodbye. Maybe except Danielle , no one here cared.

Danielle found me first in the foyer. She hugged me tight, smelling like vanilla and sunshine.

"I already stole your number from Sam's phone," she whispered with a grin. "Girls' night soon. Spa, wine, gossip. No boys allowed."

I laughed-shaky, but real. "Deal."

She squeezed me again before letting go.

Then Benedict was there.

He stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but eyes intense. The rest of the family had drifted; Danielle far, their parents not in sight. Sam? No idea.

I walked over on unsteady legs.

He didn't speak at first. Just looked at me like he was memorizing every inch. I suddenly felt exposed under his gaze.

"Don't be a stranger," he finally said, voice low and rough.

Before I could answer, he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms.

I melted.

Instantly.

His cologne wrapped around me.

His chest was hard against my softer curves. His arms banded around my waist, one hand sliding up between my shoulder blades, fingers threading into my hair at the nape. He held me tighter than family should. Tighter than was safe.

My breasts pressed against him. My nipples pebbled instantly. I felt every ridge of muscle, every slow inhale he took-like he was breathing me in.

I buried my face in his neck for one forbidden second. Skin hot. Pulse hammering under my lips.

He dipped his head, mouth brushing the shell of my ear.

"I remember the kiss," he whispered. So quiet I almost missed it. "Every fucking second."

My knees buckled.

He steadied me with a firmer grip, then slowly-reluctantly-released me.

"See you soon, Katherine."

He walked away without looking back.

Sam's voice cut through the haze from the driveway.

"Katherine! I don't have all day!"

I blinked hard, touched my lips where I could still feel the ghost of Benedict's breath, and forced my legs to move toward the car.

But inside, everything had already shifted. And there was no going back.