The kiss wasn't practiced, not one bit. The amateurishness was evident. Nor was it seductive at its core, leaning heavily into innocence.
This wasn't the kind of thing a worldly, multiple centuries-old elf would deliver after a lifetime of steamy, romantic encounters.
Kaelira kissed like someone who had never kissed anyone. An innocent schoolgirl finally gathering the bravery to do what she'd never done before.
But somehow, that just made it all the better.
Her cuteness was off the charts.
Her lips pressed to his in a straight line, firm and almost stiff, as if she feared the moment would vanish if she didn't hold it tight enough.
There was no tilt of her head, no attempts at lewd tongue action, no search for rhythm.
Just a simple, feverish connection.
A blue-haired tomboy elf who had spent her life in the smithy and on the battlefield rather than in any man's arms, gathering no experience in the art of love.
