Snippet #2619729

At this moment, they were talking bodies.

She was certain he'd said actual words, and doubly certain they had been romantic, but nothing spoke to Marloes louder than the fingers at her cheek, the question in his eyes.

Often, we find people in our lives who speak the same body language. It is rare, however, to find someone as fluent as you are in a particular dialect.

Jackson definitely spoke her native tongue. While her lips had protested, denying to give up their turn, their mouths opened up to an entirely different subject, and her tongue began to not only teach him a different song to sing, but listened to the tune already breathing in covered moans and whispers.

Marloes fingers begged for a song, and rose up to press notes in to his neck, holding him as close as possible. The interruption from the crowd -- the bookshelves that became casualties to the stage crowd -- hardly caused either to lose their rythym.

At one point, Marloes was pretty sure her body pressed against his, requesting a deeper topic of discussion between them. But, as any polite person does when they begin to open up too much, to over step an invisible boundary line, she kept it quiet. There was no doubt of the thought between them, but standards and rules need be applied for proper etiquette.

Finally, she pulled away for breath, her forehead against his. They labored in silence for a couple of minutes before she cleared her throat on jest, "You deserve far better than the discord I've put you through thus far. If we only get one day.. and I don't gather you get a vacation often.. where would you go next?"