“So… even on a day like this, our dearest Jack intends to be coy, huh?”
When Cynthia’s voice reached him from over his shoulders, so close that he could feel the warmness just behind his ears, it took Jack a considerable effort not to make a vertical leap which would’ve sent him outside the Earth’s atmosphere, hurtling toward worlds he could hardly imagine. And one more massive effort helped him to control his tone, as words composed by some sort of emergency generator of his mind flooded out like spurts of fresh water: “I didn’t mean to escape the celebration; I was just, you know… preparing psychologically. I’m not used to this anymore.”
Behind him, he heard her giggle. “What is this that you’re not used to, parties?”
‘To any of this,’ the hare was about to jest. He felt Cynthia’s arms sliding in front of him, knotting tight around his waist, and those little bits of sanity and self-possession he had managed to gather in the loneliness of the dimly lit hallway, all his efforts to cool down and behave normally in front of her… everything melted away in a heartbeat, like snow bathing in the sunlight. ‘To you, your warmth, your scent, your affection, and…’ Jack swallowed hard; even thinking about it was enough to cause him to shake like a leaf. ‘… And this alluring body of yours that torments me day and night.’ “Let’s say… it’s one of many things.”
“Oh, I see.” The arctic vixen leaned her chin on his shoulder and rubbed her cheek against his. “You do realize it’s not nice of the birthday boy to flee awayfrom his guests, right, Jack? Everyone’s waiting for you, let’s get back… ah,” she stopped, giving him a scrupulous sniff, “Such a good smell that you have today, I hadn’t noticed. It’s not your usual cologne, is it?”