My Taboo Harem!

Sienna kissed him; for a moment, Phei forgot how to breathe.

What struck him was the simple, surreal truth of it; Sienna Ryujin Tiamat was kissing him.

The Ice Robot herself, the girl who had spent years treating affection like an illness people caught from prolonged eye contact, had lifted herself in his arms and pressed her lips to his.

Her mouth touched his softly. Too softly. A little uncertain. A tan bit little stiff.

Ahh~ Her lips were small and warm, softer than her cold expression had any right to allow.

They tasted faintly of the wine she had barely touched earlier, of the sweet fruit from the birthday toast, and something cleaner beneath it — something cold and delicate that reminded Phei absurdly of winter water and night air.

It was not a practiced kiss and it contained no rhythm, confidence or any wicked little adjustment of pressure like Maddie would have used to ruin his thoughts on purpose.

’It is a question.’

A very nervous, very proud question.

Sienna kept her face close to his, eyes shut too tightly at first, as if concentration could solve romance through discipline. Her lips moved once against his, then paused, then she tried again.

The next attempt was barely better, but that made it worse for Phei, not better, because it was real and she was really trying to be good at it.

Phei did not guide her even if every instinct in him wanted to.

His body wanted to lean in, tilt her chin, take her mouth properly, teach her slowly until that awkward little kiss turned into something deeper and hotter and messier. His hands wanted to move. Gods, they wanted to move.

But he held himself still.

Barely.

Heroically, even.

A tragic sacrifice, really. Someone should build him a small monument. Preferably out of patience, since he was running out of it.

He let Sienna set the pace; her lips pressed to his again, a little longer this time.

The tiny sound that escaped her not quite a moan but just a soft breath caught between surprise and pleasure, so faint that anyone else might have missed it.

His hand tightened by a fraction at her waist making Sienna shiver as tremor of pleasure thanks to his insane touch, it went through her whole body.

Phei felt it.

She felt him feel it.

Her lips paused against his.

Slowly, her eyes opened.

Their faces were still close enough that her breath brushed his mouth. Her violet eyes stared into his, wide in a way Sienna would deny under torture. Her face remained almost neutral like she insisted on negotiating with embarrassment like it was a hostile nation.

But the blush spread across her cheeks, soft and bright, turning her cold beauty painfully human.

Phei’s hand was still on her waist. That was what she noticed next. He saw the moment she became aware of it. His palm rested at the narrow curve of her waist, over the elegant fabric of the gown. But he was not gripping, just holding weakly, almost.

As if even his touch had been made cautious by the fragility of the moment.

Still, it shook her.

Phei understood why.

This was a part of herself she had never let anyone touch freely, with warmth and intimacy and with the silent permission that said he did not need to snatch anything because she was letting him stay.

Her waist, closeness and her kiss:

All of it was being given in small pieces.

"You can stop," Phei whispered.

Sienna’s eyes narrowed, "I did not say I wanted to stop."

"Good."

His mouth curved and she kissed him again before he could answer.

This time, she tried to be bolder.

Her lips pressed harder, the angle slightly wrong, her breath trembling against his mouth as she attempted to mimic something she did not fully understand.

Phei lifted one hand slowly, and though Sienna tensed at the movement, he did not reach for her face — he took her wrist with careful gentleness and guided it upward, around the back of his neck, until her fingers hovered there uncertain for a moment and then curled, lightly at first, then with more trust.

The change hit him low in the chest.

Her other hand had stayed flat against his shirt over his heart, as if checking he was still real, so he touched that one too, slow and careful, and guided it upward as well, until she understood after a second and her second arm came around his neck and both of them held him.

The Ice Robot had both arms around his neck:

Phei was going to die, and lust was only part of the reason; Sienna awkwardly placing her arms around his neck was the thing that nearly finished him. Embarrassing, and beautiful.

He looked at the shelves over her shoulder and worked his jaw once before he trusted himself to look back down.

She leaned in again to deepen the kiss and failed immediately, her mouth opening against his a little too suddenly before closing as if she had startled herself, her nose bumping lightly against his while her lips missed the rhythm and her fingers tightened behind his neck in mortified frustration until she pulled back, face crimson.

His thumb moved once against her waist, and stayed.

Sienna stared at him, violet eyes shining with something he could not name — an ancient girl watching him through a crack in her own coldness, not knowing what she wanted to say or how to ask for what her body had just failed to do properly.

Her lips parted, soft and small and still wet from the kiss.

Phei leaned in and kissed her himself, faster and hard this time.

Sienna’s eyes widened against his mouth as his lips captured hers properly, deeper and hotter, answering her awkward attempts instead of only receiving them, his hand at her waist drawing her closer — not hard enough to frighten her, but firmly enough that she felt the shift.

This was no longer her nervous question.

This was his reply.

Phei kissed her like a man who had been holding back a flood and finally allowed one gate to open, his mouth moved over hers with controlled hunger, slow enough that she could follow and deep enough that following became a surrender of rhythm, until Sienna made a small sound, startled and muffled, her fingers tightening behind his neck.

Then his lips touched her lower lip and sucked and she froze, so he brushed, teasing the seam of her mouth, asking without words, until her breath caught and, slowly and clumsily, she let him in.

His tongue slid into her mouth, and the sound she made escaped her before pride could catch it.

He kissed her deeper, his tongue moving against hers slow at first and then firmer as she began to respond, though she had no idea how to match him — her tongue meeting his, retreating, touching again, losing the little rhythm she had found and starting over, frantic in the smallest ways, inexperienced enough to be obvious and proud enough to keep trying.

His hand spread wide across the small of her back and pressed.

She was terrible at it, and she was perfect.

Her arms tightened around his neck as her body leaned into him and her breath grew uneven against his mouth, the shiver from his hand at her waist returning stronger this time — until Sienna paused, her lips still against his but her body gone still, her eyes opening wide.

She had moaned; her fingers locked rigid against his collar.

He did not stop, because her hands never left his neck and her body never pulled away and her eyes, wide and startled as they were, stayed fixed on his mouth like she hated herself for wanting the kiss to continue.

So he continued, slower now, gentler at first and then deeper again as her fingers tightened, kissing her through the embarrassment and the shock and the first fragile pleasure that had escaped her lips and frightened her with its honesty, while his hand slid more securely around her waist to feel the warmth of her body through the star-blue gown and his other arm came around her back.

Then he pulled her closer and lifted her.

Sienna made a startled sound as both arms locked around his neck, her gown shifting in a glittering wave while he settled her onto his lap, the starlit fabric pooling around them and the fitted bodice catching the amber light against the rise and fall of her breathing, until she ended up sitting across him, close enough that there was no polite explanation left for the distance between them.

Her eyes widened again.

"Phei."

Her voice came out lower than she intended, and about three degrees more accusing.

He held her firmly at the waist, keeping her steady. "You were leaning too far."

"That is a lie."

"Yes."

"You admit it?"

"You seemed nervous. I thought honesty might help."

"It did not."

"You are still holding my neck."

Sienna looked down, and she was — both arms still around him, fingers lightly tangled near the back of his collar. She released him at once, then, after half a second, put one hand back. Phei watched the movement and smiled, and so did she, and her blush deepened yet again while he said nothing, mercy being a rare and endangered animal.

Her body was more honest than her mind.

For a while they only looked at each other as the library’s amber lights touched her face, making her violet eyes seem deeper and more unreal, her lips parted and damp from his kiss and still slightly swollen, her hair framing her face in dark perfect lines while the star-blue dress made her look like a goddess who had wandered into intimacy and forgotten how to leave. His grip on her waist changed twice and settled back where it started.