Kvothe was amidst the most wonderful moment he had known in his life to that point. The wind was rather cold and the gray stone beneath him was of no great comfort, but Kvothe was largely oblivious to these facts. It did not bother him that he was hungry, nor that there was a strung-out draccus roaming the landscape somewhere below. Kvothe's arm was almost completely numb, but he would have gladly given up that arm to make time stop.
Her body fit so perfectly nestled alongside his; her legs bent gracefully to match the degree of his, her rear tucked close to his body, and her head rested on the arm that Kvothe dared not move. Every moment with Denna, though not necessarily flawless, was perfect. This, however, was indeed a flawless moment.
Kvothe buried his face in Denna's hair, breathed in, and held his breath. So sweet was her scent, and so intoxicating. He kept dead still and slowly exhaled, fearing that Denna would wake, and this moment would be gone forever. Her dark hair tickled his nose, and he boldly dared to push closer, nuzzling her neck just slightly.
There was a soft murmur, and Denna stirred. "Kvothe?" She muttered sleepily, shifting slightly in his arms to peer over her shoulder at him.
Kvothe's mouth went dry. His heart stopped. "Denna…" He'd ruined it; squandered what he had because he wanted more. Part of him wanted to run, mortified that he had not only offended his friend, but also destroyed every chance he ever could have had with Denna. He tried to think of a lie, but the honey-sweet scent of her skin dumbed his wits. For one of the first times in his life, though it wouldn't be the last that night, Kvothe was without words. "…I'm so sorry…I…"
The next few seconds were among the longest in Kvothes life. Anticipating the crack of a whip against his back was more easily endurable than waiting for Denna's reaction. Kvothe played through the scenarios in his mind. Maybe she would push him away; tell him he was like every other man; chastise him for his behavior and never speak to him again.
What Denna did, in fact do, was nothing of the sort.
Though half lidded with sleep and the dissipating effects of the ophalum, her dark eyes glittered with the unreachable depth of the stars above. For a second, they made contact with Kvothe's eyes, in that moment pale green with fright. The corners of her berry lips turned upwards slightly as she pulled him closer.
Denna's lips hovered, nearly touching his, for what seemed like a lifetime. He felt her breath against his lips, her nose brush against his nose; it was enough to make him dizzy. In that eternity, Kvothe's mind was a torrent of thoughts. Denna was probably under lingering effect of the ophalum and had no conscious idea of what she was doing. He couldn't do this. He wouldn't. Kvothe had developed many reputations, a number of them rather infamous, but he would never be the kind of man to take advantage of a woman who wasn't in her own mind. The thoughts came and left, leaving Kvothe's mind empty.
Denna's lips made contact with Kvothe's, and he reciprocated gingerly, as though he was afraid of hurting her if he pressed too hard.
It doesn't matter how many times one may try imagine how a first kiss will feel; the sensation is impossible to analyze or predict, impossible to visualize with any accuracy. Kvothe was certainly not uninformed about these sorts of things – in fact, it was safe to assume that Kvothe was quite well informed about most things. Still, he felt completely unprepared for this moment.
Her lips felt smooth, soft, and like the flesh of forbidden fruit, and they tasted as deliciously sweet as they had always looked. Kvothe was breathless. His heart had been racing from merely laying beside her. Now, it was hammering in his chest so hard he feared his ribs would fracture.
And just like that, the kiss was over.