The Kiss   

Sighing heavily, Mr. Jenkins looks up from his desk. He's been going through old files and paperwork, trying to keep his mind off the empty bed in the room next door. He glances at the clock, realizing it's been hours since he's seen Emily. He decides to take a break from his work and go find her, hoping to at least strike up a conversation with her. He walks down the hall, his footsteps echoing softly, and then hesitates, unsure of where she might be. Finally, he decides to try the garden first, as that's where they often end up having their tea times together. As he steps outside, the warm sunlight washes over him, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he searches for Emily among the flowers and greenery. He can't help but feel a strange mixture of emotions - anxiety, curiosity, and something that he can't quite place. Perhaps it's the realization that his life is beginning to feel different now that Emily is here. He pushes these thoughts aside, focusing instead on finding her and striking up a conversation.   Emily is sitting on a bench in the garden, enjoying the peacefulness and beauty around her. She's been watching the butterflies dance from flower to flower, their vibrant colors contrasting with the lush greenery. Her thoughts drift back to her conversation with Mr. Jenkins earlier, and she can't help but wonder about his past, about the stories he must have to tell. She hears footsteps approaching and looks up, her eyes meeting his. There's an awkward silence for a moment, but then she decides to break it. "Mr. Jenkins," she says softly, "would you care to join me?"  

Mr. Jenkins feels a blush creeping up his neck as he realizes he's been staring at Emily. He clears his throat and smiles awkwardly. "Yes, I would. Thank you, Emily." He walks over to the bench and sits down beside her. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"  

"It certainly is," she said. "I've always found the garden to be a place of solace and reflection. What about you? Do you enjoy spending time out here?" She tilts her head to the side, studying his face. There's something about him that she finds endearing, despite his initial wariness towards her.  

"I do, Emily. In fact, I used to spend a lot of time out here with my late wife. This garden holds many fond memories for us. I'm sure you can understand." He pauses, swallowing thickly. "I'm sorry if I've been acting strange. I'm not used to having company here." 

Emily nods sympathetically, "I understand. I'm sorry for your loss. It must be difficult for you, running the bed and breakfast all on your own now." She reaches out and places her hand on his arm, offering what comfort she can. "I'm here if you need someone to talk to." Her touch sends a shiver down his spine, and he feels an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest. He's aware that he should pull away but finds himself unable to resist the comfort she offers. They sit in silence for a moment, both lost in their thoughts but connected by the brief contact between them.  

“I appreciate that, Emily. And please, don't worry about me being strange. I'm just getting used to having company again. It's been a while since I've had anyone to talk to about...well, anything really." He clears his throat again, feeling self-conscious. "So, how did you end up here? I mean, you're not from around here, are you?"  

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"No, I'm actually from the city. I came here to find myself, I suppose. To get away from the hustle and bustle and just be somewhere quiet and peaceful for a while." She glances down at her hand, still resting on his arm, and then quickly pulls it back, feeling self-conscious.  

"It's alright, Emily. You can touch me if you want to. I...I don't mind." His voice trails off, and he looks into her eyes, searching for some sign of what she's thinking. He feels a mixture of emotions - gratitude, longing, and something else he can't quite identify. His heart is racing, and he can't help but wonder what it all means. 

The air between them seems to crackle with an unspoken tension. Mr. Jenkins is torn between his desire to maintain a professional relationship with Emily and the intense feelings that she evokes within him. Emily, on the other hand, is experiencing a similar conflict between her need for solitude and the comfort that she finds in his company. The garden is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or chirp of a bird, creating an almost palpable silence that seems to amplify the emotions they both feel. Should I? Emily wonders, her heart racing. Maybe just a little... She tentatively reaches out and places her hand back on Mr. Jenkins' arm, feeling the warmth and strength of his muscles beneath her fingertips.  

"Thank you, Emily. Your presence here means more to me than you know." His voice is low and raspy, and his eyes never leave hers as he speaks. There's a desperate longing in his expression, and she can feel it radiating from him in waves. He leans in closer, his breath ghosting across her cheek, and whispers, "I hope you'll stay." 

Her heart skips a beat as she feels the warmth of his breath on her skin. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her thin blouse. The air between them seems to crackle with electricity, and she knows that she wants nothing more than to stay in this moment forever. As she looks into his eyes, she sees a depth of emotion that she's never seen before, and she knows that she can't resist it. The air crackles with anticipation as Emily and Mr. Jenkins lean in closer to each other. Their breaths mingle, and the scent of jasmine from the nearby bushes fills the air. Emily closes her eyes, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, and she knows that this is the moment she's been waiting for. Her heart races as she feels the weight of his hand on her arm, and she longs to feel his touch elsewhere. She tilts her head up, gazing into his eyes, and whispers, "I want to stay." 

Emily's words send a thrill through him, and he can feel his heart racing in his chest. He leans in even closer, his lips mere inches from hers, as he whispers, "Then stay with me." Before she can react, he closes the distance between them, pressing his lips softly against hers. The kiss is tentative at first, filled with an almost palpable longing, but as they continue, it grows bolder and more passionate. Her lips are so soft, he thinks, and they fit perfectly with mine. He can feel her responding to the kiss, her lips parting slightly, allowing him deeper access, and he takes the opportunity, tangling his fingers in her hair and deepening the kiss. The world around them seems to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this perfect moment of connection.